Alone

Meera sat in her studio apartment, scrolling through messages from relatives scattered across continents. Her grandmother's voice crackled through WhatsApp from Chennai, speaking Tamil words that felt like home echoing through fiber optic cables. She'd left everything—the noise, the crowds, the expectations—seeking solitude in this American city. Yet loneliness whispered differently here. A friend's crypto venture glowed hopefully on her screen; another's business plea awaited her investment. But tonight, Meera cooked her mother's sambar recipe, the spices shimmering in golden oil. Tomorrow, she'd help her uncle's startup. The network was different now, dispersed yet alive. Alone, she realized, meant something else entirely among her people.