SCENE_01
Break Room, 2:14 A.M.
You're seven hours into an overnight stocking shift, sitting on an upturned crate by the loading dock, phone out for four minutes before the buzzer calls you back. Their thread used to sit at the top of your messages. Tonight it's fourth, pushed down by two group chats about someone's flat tire and a delivery notification. You watch the app refresh once, twice, as if refreshing could move it back up.
SCENE_02
The Fourth-Spot Reading
You treat the ranking like a verdict: fourth means they're drifting, third would mean it's worse, first would mean you're still safe. You open the thread just to reread the last three messages, hunting for the line where their interest started leaking out. You draft an opening line for a new text — something breezy, uninvested — then delete it, because typing it and not sending it is the only way to prove you noticed the slide without admitting you noticed.
SCENE_03
What the Sort Order Actually Sorts
Back on the floor, scanning barcodes, it lands differently: the list orders by timestamp, not by how much anyone cares. A cousin's meme and a coworker's shift swap can outrank someone who still means everything to you — that's the sort function working as designed, not a scoreboard of who's leaving. Before your next break, you decide to check the actual time gap instead of the position, and let the number replace the countdown.