Screen Burn

Maya's thumb moved on autopilot, another endless scroll through Instagram at 2 AM. She felt like a **zombie** – dead inside but still somehow functioning, just barely. The blue glow of her **iPhone** painted her bedroom in ghostly shadows as everyone else's "perfect lives" flashed before her exhausted eyes.

"You look terrible," her best friend Jax had said earlier that day. "Maybe you need those **vitamin** D supplements my mom's always pushing?"

Maya had laughed it off, but the truth stung. She wasn't sleeping. wasn't really living either – just existing through screens, watching everyone else seem so happy while she felt like she was failing at being sixteen.

Then her phone battery died. Completely.

Panic surged, then something else – relief. Her parents' old golden retriever, Buster, nudged her hand with his wet nose, whining softly. For once, she couldn't ignore him.

They ended up at the park at dawn, just her and this **dog** who didn't care about follower counts or whether her outfit was aesthetic. Buster chased tennis balls with pure joy, his tail wagging like he'd invented happiness. Maya sat on a bench, watching the actual sunrise instead of a filtered version, and realized she'd forgotten what real light looked like.

A guy from her history class walked by, shirt inside out, bedhead crazy. "Rough morning?" she called out.

"Buster got me up at 5," he said, grinning. "Worth it though."

They sat together, not taking pictures, not posting anything. Just talking. For three hours.

"Maybe I should charge my phone," she said eventually, not moving.

"Or maybe," he said, "we could just... not."

Her phone stayed dead all weekend. For the first time in forever, Maya didn't feel like a zombie anymore. She just felt sixteen – confused, awkward, weirdly hopeful, and finally, actually awake.