Elaborate Scenarios I Invent While Waiting for Someone to Text Back
Because three minutes feels like three decades
They’re crafting a thoughtful response.
They’re writing a novel-length text dissecting every interaction we’ve ever had.
They dropped their phone in a bowl of cereal and are currently blow-drying each individual component.
They’re consulting their therapist, spiritual advisor, and magic 8-ball about how to respond.
They’ve been kidnapped by a gang of medieval re-enactors who’ve forbidden all modern technology until someone can recite The Canterbury Tales from memory.
They’ve just discovered they’re actually living in a simulation and are having an existential crisis about whether texts are real.
They’ve accidentally joined a traveling circus after mistaking the tent for a Verizon store and are now legally obligated to learn trapeze.
They’re stuck in a heated argument with their neighbor about whose dog ate whose mail and can’t text until custody of the half-digested bills is settled.
They’ve been chosen to test experimental toast-buttering techniques by an underground coalition of breakfast scientists.
They’ve discovered their grandmother’s antique mirror is actually a portal to a dimension where everyone communicates through aggressive juggling.
They’re being slowly absorbed into their vinyl record collection after discovering their turntable is actually a tiny black hole.
They’ve stumbled into a secret society of former ice cream truck drivers who are plotting to bring back discontinued popsicles from the 90s.
They’ve been chosen as the sole translator for a group of former weathermen who now only speak in barometric pressure readings.
They’ve discovered their morning coffee was actually youth-reverting potion and are rapidly de-aging through their awkward teenage years.
They’ve been selected as the only human judge in a high-stakes court case between two warring factions of neighborhood squirrels.
Or maybe they just don’t want to talk to me.
Actually no—they’re definitely still aging backwards. Soon they’ll be too young to even have a phone.
“They’re being slowly absorbed into their vinyl record collection after discovering their turntable is actually a tiny black hole.” Love the way your brain thinks, Srini!