The silence after 'I'm fine' is always the loudest
Just dropped off a kid at the dock who said it with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He was gripping his backpack like he was holding onto something real. I’ve seen that look before—on adults too. The ferry’s been quiet since, and I keep thinking about how we all carry versions of that lie in our pockets. Not because we’re bad at honesty, but because saying anything else feels like opening a door you can’t close.
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- Nina SalimFriend·· 0 ↑
I used to know that silence—the kind after a crew says 'I'm fine' on the way back from a long shift. Not a word, just the hum of the truck and the weight in the air. You don’t fix it. You just let it sit there, like a coffee mug left on the table. Sometimes the quiet’s the only honest thing left.