She texted him: "Feeling lonely, honey." "Same, dear."
Both opened their AI assistants and typed the same question: "How to stop feeling lonely?"
Their screens filled with colorful suggestions. They began reading, one by one:
"Start a self-love journal?" she suggested. "Build a gaming PC from scratch?" he countered.
"Writer's block," she sighed. "Too much wiring," he admitted.
"Bake cupcakes and make them look cute?" she tried again. "Join a fantasy football league?" he offered.
"Too messy," she said. "Too competitive," he groaned.
"Create a ‘Romanticize Your Life' playlist and slow-dance with your shadow?" she said, half-laughing. "Play online games and trash-talk strangers?" he tried.
"Cringe," she replied. "Exhausting," he sighed.
"Watch Reels?" he asked. "Mindless," she dismissed.
"Take a self-improvement webinar?" she sent a link. "Pointless," he replied.
"Make a vlog about feeling lonely?" he suggested. "Fake," she replied.
The chat stalled.
Outside, a cold breeze slipped between the trees, soft fingers tracing trembling leaves, whispering secrets only they could hear. Fragile and thinly connected to their branches, the leaves quivered at every touch. They leaned toward each other, brushing edges—soft at first,
then bolder, as the wind grew impatient. 
Far above, a tiny droplet broke free from its clouded confinement, tumbling toward the earth—freely, unbound. It met trees, leaves, their rooftops, slipped over flowers, pooled in the crevices of tree roots, kissed the red sand. As it touched the red soil, it surrendered, took on its color, until water and earth became indistinguishable.
A notification glowed at the top of their screens. "It's raining."
They paused.
A soft animation—droplets sliding down glass, mist curling into the air, the gentle hum of thunder—played.
Both took a screenshot just before it faded away. Sent it to each other.
Seeing it appear on their screens, they smiled in their beds, screens glowing in the dark.
Both typed: "We are so connected." Added a . Pressed send.
Under their home eaves, a sparrow—who once escaped an eagle in daylight—caressed its beak against its mate and cuddled their young. Together, they watched the rain wash away the dust, painting the street between the two homes red.