The whisper that gives it away

It waited until you were alone. Then it made the offer sound like a technicality. Nobody will know. Nobody to explain to tomorrow. Nothing to report. It's not even selling the cigarette anymore. It's selling secrecy, like a discount.

But that discount gives the game away. You only pull the blinds for something you've already judged. Nobody closes the curtains to eat an apple. Some part of you has looked at this and reached a verdict. The whisper isn't hiding you from other people. It's hiding the plan from you.

And the witness list was never that short. You're on it. You'll wake up tomorrow remembering tonight, whatever tonight turns out to be. Break the secret the other way, right now. Text one person you trust two words, 'tough minute.' The whisper loses its best line the second one person knows.

There's one more witness, and He's the kind you want. God's in this room with nobody else in it. You see me. Stay close. The no you're about to make is private too. Nobody will clap. He saw the whisper. Let Him see the no.