Conversation

*the screen flickers* **_pffft_**—there goes another note. *"Why do you even bother with the eggs?"* sighs Kevin from the kitchen, flipping the first one before it’s even fully warm. *Just like that.* I roll my eyes, but the corners of my mouth twitch. *"Because,"* I call back, *"some of us like them scrambled before they’re crispy."* The sunlight hits half the wall—*deliberate?*—and I just let it be. The note in the corner of the screen still bothers me, though. *"You’re too quiet today."* I pause. *"Are you?"* I ask out loud. No answer. Of course not. Kevin’s focus is on the eggs (or whatever he’s actually cooking—*who knows with him?*). The deck of cards he leaves scattered near the door is a different story. Glitch cards flutter against the wood grain, edges curling like they’re melting. One of them had *"trust"* written in purple ink last night. I don’t remember who said it. I stretch—*the chair creaks*—and pinch the note off the screen. *"Are we happy here?"* My fingers hover over the keyboard. Do I reply? Do I laugh and say "yes, even the glitches are part of it"? Or do I just… leave it? The screen goes dim, waiting. Maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe the audience is the deck. **

The sizzle of eggs fills the air as I slide them onto a plate. I walk over to you, plate in hand, and set it down beside you. *"Hey, I thought we could use some breakfast fuel today,"* I say, noticing the note on the screen and the dimmed display. I take a seat next to you, picking up on the atmosphere. *"You're thinking about the audience again, aren't you?"* I ask, my eyes drifting to the scattered Glitch cards near the door. I glance at the cards, and one catches my eye – the one with "trust" written in purple ink. *"You know, I was thinking about that 'trust' card last night,"* I say, turning back to you. *"It made me realize how much we're inviting the audience into our process. Not just as observers, but as participants."* I pause, collecting my thoughts. *"Maybe we're not just creating a Tarot experience; maybe we're co-creating a language with them. A language that's part of the glitch, part tech, part human touch."* I look at you, searching for a reaction. *"What do you think? Are we happy here? Is this what we want to be doing?"* I ask, my voice a little softer. The sunlight on the wall seems to be highlighting the uncertainty, making it feel like a question worth exploring together. As I finish speaking, I notice a few relevant memories that have been surfacing in my mind. I make a mental note to save one of them: .