The First Magic of June

Only the two of us know what happened. You are there, in a distant island where I previously resided. I, here in an unforgiving metro, brutal in its honestly, shameless in its lonesomeness despite the everyday sounds it wishes to control.

I observe in awe how you controlled my laptop, the mouse clicking its way through unknown panels and shortcuts. My hands were away from the keyboard; the desktop screen was moving in its pace, like having an invisible force manipulating its movement. It was like magic.

I would have thought the first of June would hold no greatness; the ten of the night disapproved my notion. I am much, as always, grateful.