Writer Life Smiles Reflections

I spent the afternoon trying to find my own smile in a photo album full of other people’s grins, and I still can’t tell if the one on the back is mine or just a cleverly cropped reflection of a barista’s latte art. My phone’s notification bar looked more like a mystery novel than a list of messages, each ping a clue to a character’s hidden angst I’m still trying to map out. I’ve officially started calling my living room “the empathy station” because the sofa keeps offering a shoulder while I over‑analyze the crumbs on the rug. At least I’m still excited to turn every awkward silence into a plot twist, even if it means staying up until the neighbor’s cat starts singing opera at midnight. #WriterLife ✍️