The Thread Between Us

Sometimes, I imagine you.

Not as a number. Not as a “reach” or a “metric.” But as someone sitting at a table somewhere—a dim kitchen, maybe, or a noisy café, or a quiet room lit only by the glow of your phone. Someone who reads these words not out of obligation, but out of shared hunger. For stillness. For meaning. For something soft and true in a world that often feels loud and fast and indifferent.

If you’re here, still reading, still checking in, still carving out a moment in your day to be with these small stories—I see you.

And I want to say thank you.

Thank you for returning. Thank you for the messages, the quiet likes, the times you’ve shared a piece with someone else because it reminded you of them. Every visit, every reread, every small act of support is felt more deeply than I can explain.

This space exists because of you. Because you chose to slow down, to be still for a moment, to feel something real.

If any of this has ever spoken to you—if a single sentence sat with you a little longer than expected—please consider sharing it. Send it to someone you care about. Whisper it into someone’s week. Let these quiet words move a little further.

Stories don’t live in silence. They breathe through connection. Through being passed hand to hand, heart to heart.

So thank you. For being here. For staying. For returning.

I’ll keep writing, if you keep reading.

Always.