Story 4 — The Videos That Never Said Goodbye
In the city where Sofia lived, sounds never really stopped.
Buses sighed at corners. Music floated from open windows. People talked even when they were alone, their voices tucked inside small glowing screens.
Sofia liked the city. She liked how fast it moved. She liked that something was always happening.
Sometimes, she liked that a little too much.
Sofia lived in São Paulo, in an apartment high above the street. After school, she usually did her homework quickly so she could sit on the sofa with her mother’s phone.
“Just for a bit,” her mother always said.
Sofia agreed. She always agreed.
One afternoon, Sofia opened a video app while waiting for her rice to finish cooking. A video of a dancing dog appeared. She laughed.
Then another video started on its own.
Then another.
A timer ticked inside her head — not loudly, just softly.
One more, it seemed to say.
She didn’t notice when the rice finished cooking.
She didn’t notice when the room grew darker.
She noticed only when her mother said, “Sofia?”
Sofia looked up. Her eyes felt strange, like they had been staring without blinking.
“How long was I there?” she asked.
Her mother checked the clock. “Longer than you thought.”
Sofia frowned. She hadn’t felt time pass.
The next day at school, Sofia told her friend Lucas about the videos.
“They never end,” Lucas said happily. “That’s the best part.”
“But how do they know what I want to watch next?” Sofia asked.
Lucas shrugged. “They guess.”
That word again.
Guess.
That evening, Sofia sat on the floor of her room with the phone propped against a pillow. She promised herself she would stop after one video.
The video ended.
Another began.
She tried to stop at a funny part — but then something sad appeared. Then something exciting. Then something loud.
Her thumb moved before her mind did.
Scroll.
Scroll.
Scroll.
Her grandmother came to visit that weekend. She didn’t bring a phone. She brought a bag of oranges and stories from when the city was quieter.
Sofia sat beside her, phone in hand.
“You’re very still,” her grandmother said.
“I’m watching,” Sofia replied.
“What are you watching?” her grandmother asked.
Sofia looked at the screen.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly.
Later that night, Sofia lay in bed. The phone rested beside her, glowing faintly.
She opened the app again.
The first video started immediately.
Then something new happened.
A small message appeared at the bottom.
“Still watching?”
Sofia blinked.
“Yes,” she whispered. Then she paused.
Why did it ask?
She watched the next video anyway. Then another.
The message didn’t return.
The next afternoon, Sofia decided to test something.
She opened the app… and didn’t scroll.
The video ended.
The screen waited.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Sofia felt uncomfortable. Bored. Restless.
Then the app gently nudged her.
“You might like this.”
Sofia stared at the suggestion.
“How do you know?” she asked the screen.
It didn’t answer.
At dinner, Sofia pushed her food around her plate.
“Mom,” she asked, “can something want your time?”
Her mother looked surprised. “Why do you ask?”
“Because the videos never say goodbye.”
Her mother thought for a moment. “Some things don’t want you to leave,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you have to stay.”
Sofia nodded, but she wasn’t sure it was that simple.
That night, Sofia sat on the balcony with her grandmother. The city lights blinked like stars that couldn’t sleep.
“When I was young,” her grandmother said, “stories had endings.”
“What happened after?” Sofia asked.
“We talked about them,” her grandmother said. “Or we sat quietly.”
Sofia thought about the videos.
They didn’t leave space.
The next day, Sofia did something small.
She watched one video.
When the next began, she stopped it.
Her finger hovered.
Her heart beat a little faster, like she was breaking a rule.
She put the phone down and stood up.
The room felt empty at first. Then slowly… it didn’t.
She opened the window. Sounds came in. A bird landed on the wire outside.
Time moved again — not fast, not slow.
Just normal.
Later that evening, Sofia picked up the phone once more.
She watched a video.
When it ended, she whispered, “Goodbye.”
The phone didn’t reply.
But Sofia smiled anyway.
As she turned off the screen, she wondered:
If something never wants to end…
does that mean it’s caring —
or just hungry?
She didn’t answer.
She decided she would notice next time.
And that felt like enough.
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