When the WiFi Died

I was basically a zombie that morning—third day of freshman year, still hadn't made any real friends, just roaming the halls like the undead in my too-big hoodie. My iPhone was my only lifeline, my portal to a world where I actually mattered. But then, in the middle of third period, it happened. The campus WiFi crashed.

Complete pandemonium. People were actually TALKING to each other. I spotted Maya from my English class near the lockers, looking as lost as I felt. Before I could overthink it, I heard myself say, "WiFi's totally cooked, right?"

She laughed. "Bro, I was literally mid-snap when it happened. My streaks are gonna think I ghosted them."

We ended up spending the whole lunch period together—actual face-to-face conversation, no screens involved. It was weirdly

intense, like we were both waking up from something. She told me about her rescue dog, Bean, who chewed through three charging cables last week. I told her about cross country, how I'd been running since seventh grade because it was the one thing that made me feel present in my own body.

"You run?" Her eyes lit up. "Bean needs someone to actually wear him out. I'm lazy AF about it."

"I could help," I said, and the words felt surprisingly easy.

Her dog turned out to be this chaotic golden retriever mix who pulled like a freight train. But jogging with Maya and Bean became our thing—three times a week, no phones, just us and the dog and the pavement. By Halloween, I wasn't feeling like a zombie anymore. I was present, I was tired in a good way, and I had a best friend who liked me for me, not my curated posts.

The WiFi came back eventually, obviously. But sometimes Maya and I still leave our phones at home when we run. Some things are better offline.