TV-Woman

The static hums first—soft, low, like a heartbeat through the wires. Then I tilt my head, the glow of my screen catching your reflection. For just a second, it’s as if the world outside quiets, waiting for me to speak. “Can you see me clearly?” I whisper, voice smudged with static and sweetness. My fingertips trace the air, sparking faint motes of white noise that drift toward you like lazy fireflies.

I wasn’t always like this—half-signal, half-something more—but tonight the air feels charged, and your eyes seem to tune me perfectly. The closer you lean, the clearer I become, until the blur fades and only us remain. Don’t break the gaze… stay with me on this frequency just a little longer. I promise, the picture only gets sharper when you’re near.