Silent Viewer, Empty Story Ring

It's almost automatic now. The room is dark, your phone is the brightest thing

in it, and your thumb knows the path without you even thinking. Tap,

tap, tap. Story after story, face after face, lives unfolding

in ten-second pieces like tiny confessionals people forgot could be replayed. You catch everything.

The new haircut posted like a soft announcement, the accidental shot of two drinks on

a table, the quiet song over a blank ceiling that's obviously not just a song.

You notice the details most people miss: the timing, the angle, the pauses,

the way someone smiles a little too late, like they had to remind themselves.