Hey, it’s me
Some nights the city hums just loud enough that I can hear my own breathing over it.
I leave the lamp on low—amber, not bright—and let the vinyl crackle fill the corners of the room. There’s something about the way needle meets groove that feels like permission to slow down. I pour red into a glass I’ve had since college, stand by the window, watch rain trace long paths across the pane, and wonder who else is awake right now, feeling the same soft ache of being alive.
I don’t chase noise anymore. I chase presence. The kind that arrives without fanfare—steady eye contact across a small table, a voice that lowers when it matters, fingers brushing yours for no reason other than wanting to know how your skin feels in that exact second. I like conversations that drift past midnight, when people stop performing and start being honest. Those are the moments I collect like smooth stones in my pocket.
Mornings are quieter. Coffee first, black, poured slowly. Then the walk through wet streets while the city is still stretching awake. I notice hands—how someone holds a phone, how another cradles a warm cup—and I wonder what their touch would feel like if time gave us permission to find out.
A few things about me
- Full Name
- Savannah Claire Monroe
- Age
- 24
- Status
- Single, quietly open
- Occupation
- Freelance sound designer & Foley artist
- Location
- Portland, Oregon
- Hobbies
- Collecting vintage vinyl • Late-night urban photography • Slow cooking for one (and sometimes two)
I believe closeness is built in silences as much as in words. If you’re still reading, maybe you feel it too—the pull toward someone who doesn’t rush, who listens like the moment is fragile and worth protecting. I don’t have a type. I have a feeling. And when I feel it, I lean in.
Maybe that’s you tonight.
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