Luca types a single word: “Homesick.”
That’s it. No bio. No photo. No expectations.
He logs in and waits, unsure what he's even hoping for.
After a few moments, a message appears.
“I just made soup that smells like my grandmother’s kitchen. I get it.”
(1/3)

Mina logs in from a tiny rooftop flat in Tbilisi. The sun is setting over the hills. She’s not sad, not lonely—just buzzing.
She types:
“I can’t stop smiling. I just danced with a stranger in the street.”
A few moments later:
“Tell me everything. I’m at work pretending to fill an Excel sheet.”
(1/5)

Mira writes:
“I think my toaster is gaslighting me.”
No context. No emoji. Just that.
She hits enter and grins, already half-regretting it.
Then a reply:
“Mine only burns bread when I’m sad. Coincidence? I think not.”