Fantasy Friday: Good Agent
Dream a little dream
He said it lightly.
Almost as a joke.
“Good agent.”
Most people would have smiled and moved on.
And I did smile.
But something in me shifted.
Quietly. Immediately.
I wasn’t in the conversation anymore.
I was eleven years old again, sitting at a table in a steel mill, watching men who never raised their voices.
Men, my father told me to pay attention to.
It wasn’t the word itself.
It was the placement.
The timing.
The ease with which it was delivered, as if it didn’t matter at all.
That’s how it works.
The signal is never forced.
Try this- “It’s never what you think -
Later, there was a call.
Late enough to be casual.
Late enough to be intentional.
Questions that could pass as conversation.
Explanations that could pass as a pretense.
I didn’t answer directly.
I shifted it.
Turned it into humor.
Light enough to keep the tone.
Clear enough to hold my position.
I’ve spent enough time around people who understand how to “activate” a moment.
It doesn’t take much.
A word.
A pause.
A slight change in tone.
And suddenly, the field changes.
That doesn’t mean anything is happening.
But it does mean something is possible.
Cyprus feels far away.
But distance doesn’t always mean what we think it means.
The movies get it wrong.
The real ones aren’t glamorous.
They’re tired.
Irregular.
Quiet.
Which is why the ones who are easy to look at deserve a second look. I’m not drawing conclusions. There’s no need.
I recognize the signal.
I don’t need to move toward it to understand it.
And for now…
That’s enough.
✈️
