Nobody even noticed.

She checks the time but doesn't need to.

It's just a gesture — means she's planning.

Touches your arm when she says "this was fun"

That touch is the goodbye already landing.

Bag's on her shoulder before you blink.

Glass still half full — she leaves it there.

Something about a taxi and a dog to feed...

Something that sounds real enough not to question where.

And just like that the chair is empty.

And just like that the air relaxes.

You feel it three drinks later going.[Chorus: Hypnotic rhythmic vocals, heavy echo]

Halfway through the door.

Already gone.

Before the sentence ends.

Halfway through the door.

You never feel the cut,

'Cause she was kind enough

To leave while you were laughing.

Halfway through the door

Never says "I'm done" — just gets quieter.

Like a radio dial turning down by ticks.

Still likes your posts — the public ones.

Still sends a "haha" once a month.

Enough to keep you in the maybe...

Not enough to call it much.

And you scroll back trying to find the seam.

The message where it shifted tone.

But there's no single moment — that's the craft.

He turned the lights down so slow,

You thought it was the sun going down on its own.

Halfway through the door.

Already somewhere else,

Before you count the silence up.

Halfway through the door.

The kindest kind of cut,

Is the one that heals before you know you're bleeding.

(Before you — before you — know)

I do it too.

I've done it so many times.

I've left dinners and friendships and one apartment

Without ever actually saying "I'm leaving".

Just — became less there.

Until not-there was the normal.

And honestly?

I don't know if that's grace or cowardice.

I think it might be both...

Wearing the same coat.

Am I kind or am I just afraid?

Am I kind or am I just afraid?

Am I kind or —[Massive Dark Techno Drop]

(Explosive deep drop, heavy 808 bass, oriental synths, no vocals)

Halfway through the door.

And I keep telling myself it's gentle.

Halfway through the door.

But gentle for who — for me or for them?

Maybe the bravest thing...

Is the thing I never do.

Which is stop.

Turn around.

Sit back down.

And say:

"Hey — I think I'm leaving. And I wanted you to know before I'm gone."

I didn't say it though.

I put my jacket on.

I mentioned something about a morning thing...

And I left the glass half full.

(Echoing whisper)

Old habits.