Imagine me, not as I am, but as I could be without the stories I’ve been told to carry. No rĂ©sumĂ©. No receipts. No small talk armor. Just shoulders dropped, eyes soft, feet bare on cool ground.

For the 15th minute past the hour, when the world holds its breath.

And then imagine us , together, in that 15th minute of an hour that doesn’t belong to anyone.

In this fifteen, we don’t fix each other. We witness. We don’t demand. We offer. You hand me a laugh like a cool coin. I give you the truth I hide under my tongue. No one keeps score. No one leaves early.