Silence is Scented By Tamara-Lee Brereton-Karabetsos, a flat white with extra foam

 I didn’t mean to become LinkedIn’s reluctant oracle. I was simply trying to mute Dave. Dave was a guy from high school who had discovered 'nuance' last Tuesday and subsequently decided to treat the platform like a hostage situation run by bullet points and passive-aggressive emojis.      

            I opened the app with a singular, quiet objective: three dots, a thirty-day mute, and closure. Instead, the interface prompted me: ‘Share your thoughts?’

I felt irritation rather than inspiration. I typed, 'Silence is the most radical form of engagement,' and hit post before I could overthink it.

       Twelve minutes later, I had three thousand likes. Hundreds of comments flooded my notifications, including a direct message from a man calling himself an ‘ethics ninja.’ The responses were a chorus of 'This,' and 'Let this sink in,' and ‘We’re not ready for this conversation.' I wasn't ready either; I was still trying to find the button to hide Dave’s latest update about his morning cold-plunge routine.

            Soon, a startup invited me to keynote a session titled ‘Listening Louder.’ A boutique company offered to manufacture ‘Hush,’ a candle scented with what they described as ‘Intellectual Ambiguity.’ When I attempted a clarification—explaining that I was just trying to ignore an old classmate—it received only twelve likes. One person replied: ‘Downplaying your genius only proves how necessary it is.’

            My sentence began to circulate without me, returning to my feed wearing a metaphorical turtleneck and a monocle. Think pieces appeared. Panels were assembled. I was eventually added to a group chat called 'Quiet Resistance (Real Ones Only).' No one spoke in the chat; this was considered powerful.

            Engagement rises when I say nothing. Mystique compounds interest, and interest compounds invoices. Dave still posts daily, driving the conflict that drives the visibility. Now, I post once a week. People call it restraint. Some call it genius. I call it sitting in a quiet cafe, watching the steam rise from my flat white, and wondering if anyone realizes that silence is now a subscription service—limited edition, and scented like existential dread.

 Bio:

Tamara-Lee Brereton-Karabetsos is a writer and professional mute-button enthusiast. She prefers her insights like her coffee: a flat white with extra foam and a side of existential dread. She finds that the best engagement usually happens when saying absolutely nothing.

 
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