Hey—It’s Toffer.
He’s in my chair like he owns the place.
Which is weird, because I own this house.
Estimated read time: 2 minutes
But there he was. Legs crossed, sipping tea I didn’t make, in the one chair that actually supports my spine.
“That’s chamomile,” I said, mostly to prove it was mine.
He nodded. “It’s nice. Though you strike me more as a black coffee kind of guy who wants to be a tea person.”
I stared.
“You don’t remember inviting me,” he said, “but I’ve been here a while. Quiet corner of your brain. Just waiting.”
He looked like the kind of man who wins arguments he’s not part of. Crisp shirt, relaxed smirk, slight aura of mischief. Very uninvited guest who knows too much.
“So,” he said, “what’s the hold-up? Decision fatigue? Clarity tax? Moral gymnastics disguised as productivity?”
I didn’t answer.
He kept going. “You’re calling it discernment, but it’s actually just you wanting to be right without risking being wrong.”
He stood up and casually inspected one of my notebooks. “Humility isn’t the preface to a wise choice. It’s what happens when you realize you don’t get to control how it all plays out. You just choose, then live.”
He started walking out like it was his house.
“Hey,” I called out, “how did you even get in here?”
He paused by the door, smiled that irritatingly knowing smile, and said:
“Same way most things get in. You left a crack open while overthinking.”
And just like that, he was gone.
No door sound. No footsteps. Just the faint smell of tea… and the unmistakable feeling that my ego had just been out-charmed.
Your Friend in Time,
Toffer
Beautifully written with an economy of words. Insightful as well. It left me with a smile.