I walked into CVS the other day with a simple plan: grab a few items and get out. Nothing special. But the moment I stepped inside, something unusual happened, something so rare now that it almost startled me.
A woman waiting at the cashier looked up, met my eyes, and gave me one of the warmest smiles I’ve seen in a long time. Not distracted. Not half‑present. A real smile.
Like humans do, I returned it and said hello. And just like that, a conversation erupted, naturally, effortlessly, the way it used to before the world got swallowed by screens.
I told her how refreshing it was to see someone not glued to a phone. Then I shared my two recent “experiments”, how I went into two different stores, intentionally leaving my phone in the car, hoping to talk to anyone who wasn’t staring at theirs. Both attempts failed.
She laughed, then admitted she had to “confess.” She lifted her hand and showed me her phone, which she had been hiding behind her.
“It died,” she said, smiling again.
We both burst out laughing. It was honest, human, and real.
In that small moment, we acknowledged something bigger than the two of us, how far we’ve drifted from each other, how much we’ve surrendered to these devices, and how strange it feels to meet someone who is actually present.
We ended our conversation with a simple agreement:
We have to strive, daily, to detach ourselves from these phones and talk to each other again.
A small encounter.
A warm smile.
A reminder that humanity isn’t gone, it’s just waiting for us to look up.
No comments:
Post a Comment