Your weeks run together. Thursday and Sunday have the same shape, and at the end of one you can't quite say what stayed with you. Not the events. The texture.
Sundays is the smallest possible answer. Once a week, your phone rings at the same quiet time. You talk for five minutes about whatever's been on your mind. Sundays transcribes what you said, notices what keeps coming back, and leaves the rest alone.
Not a journal app. Not therapy. Not a streak. A small Sunday ritual, kept for you.
