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Modern Love in miniature, featuring reader-submitted stories of no more than 100 words.
Multiple civilian deaths from Russian airstrikes. I WhatsApped Kostya in Ukraine. “We’re fine,” he writes, his standard reply. Then, “How are you?” and “Mom says hi.” Back when he and I were “we,” I didn’t always get a response. When we broke, he ghosted hard. I left Ukraine never knowing why. Our reconnection — a byproduct of war. For 1,280 days, we’ve been in considerate contact. When fighting’s fierce, he writes so I know he’s alive. He sends jokes, compliments, new schemes to meet after the war. Peace talks falter. Battles rage. I eye my phone, wary of WhatsApp silence. — Alex Poppe

The clock strikes 6 a.m., and I’ve watched Paul sleep for nearly an hour. It’s the only time he seems helpless, incapable of hurting me. Before I parachuted into his Los Angeles world from Minneapolis for the weekend, he insisted on keeping things casual to make long-distance work. But that condition didn’t stop me from imagining our future together, once we could commit to FaceTiming more than three times a day. I start kissing his body, but he complains it’s too early. He turns over, and I cuddle him back to sleep. It’s too late for me; I love him. — Jamie Valentino