The screen keeps shouting my name in static, a thousand blinking mouths, all hungry, all now. Time fractures into pings and scrolls, my pulse synced to a restless glow. I drift through data like wreckage, thumb-worn maps, algorithm tides, each wave louder than the last, each horizon sold and resold. Somewhere, salt still remembers me. A slow breath rolls across the dark, moonlight stitching silver paths no one needs to click to follow. I close my eyes and feel it pull. The ocean, patient as truth, waiting beyond the signal’s reach, where silence moves, and I can float.