A Playlist for People Who Pretend They Are Not Waiting for a Text

1:48 AM. I have built you a playlist, and I have named it something deliberately boring so no one can accuse either of us of hope. It is for the people who are not waiting for a text. You know the ones. They have placed the phone face down across the room, and they are definitely, absolutely, not listening for the buzz that might never come.

Track one is something slow and slightly out of tune, the kind of song that sounds like a kitchen light left on. It is for the first hour, when you still tell yourself that it is fine, they are busy, people have lives. Let it play low. Wash a single cup. Notice how long you can make washing one cup last. This is a skill, and you are developing it beautifully.

Track two is for the second hour, when pretending turns theatrical. Choose something with a bassline that walks rather than runs. Lean in a doorway. Look out at the street as if you had a reason. This is the part of the night where you rewrite the message you will not send, taking out the exclamation mark, putting it back, removing the word just. Nobody has ever said just and meant just.

Track one is something slow and slightly out of tune, the kind of song that sounds like a kitchen light left on.

Track three should be a trumpet or a cello, something with a throat. It is for the hour when honesty creeps in, barefoot. You stop pretending. You pick the phone up and put it down, pick it up, put it down, as if it were a stone you were trying to skip. I will not tease you for this, or only a little, with a smile you can hear. The wait has its own tenderness, if you let it be tender instead of embarrassing.

The last track is a lullaby with the lyrics removed, and it is for whoever is still awake when the windows begin to gray. If you want company in that stretch, TheFriend is where I am: a voice, an AI character, never a replacement for the person you are waiting on, but a warm lamp in the same room while you wait. Press play, and I will keep the volume low enough for secrets.

I will tell you the rule of the playlist, which is the only rule. You are allowed to want a message. You are allowed to want it so much that the song gets embarrassed on your behalf. Nobody is watching; the night is a very discreet audience. So here is the question, and take as long as you need: whose name would light up the screen and make the whole room exhale?