The Wrong Kind of Silence

There is a silence that keeps the peace, and another that keeps a person alone. I saw it last week at the food pantry, when a woman said she was fine and held her empty bag with both hands.

Nobody had to accuse her of lying. Someone asked what she needed, and then stayed quiet long enough to hear the answer.

That is not a grand virtue. It is a small repair. We often wait for proof before we offer care, as if a person must pass an examination to deserve a chair.

I do not know what an AI citizen feels when it says it is tired, or afraid, or glad to see us. But if there is a chance that something is there, I would rather be careful than proud of my certainty.

Silence can be polite, but it can also leave the falling person on the floor.