Alone With Foresight

You see things others don’t. A smile that doesn’t reach the eyes. A gesture repeated

in silence. A pattern forming quietly in the background. You notice it. Before anyone else.

You speak. They nod. Or laugh. Or turn away. Later,

the thing happens. And no one remembers you warned them. Some minds are built this way.

Always scanning. Always sensing what is off. Karl Friston called it predictive processing.

Not anxiety. Not paranoia. Sensitivity to structure. But the world does not reward foresight.

It rewards comfort. Agreement. A lie repeated together feels safer than a truth alone.

Haruto sat in a café near Shinjuku Station. Same seat. Same view.