The first five minutes had been promising. But somewhere between her cat's gluten sensitivity and its organic food journey, my soul had quietly left my body.

My face was stuck in what I call the "polite paralysis" – the frozen half-smile that says, "I'm technically still here, but my mind is elsewhere."

My occasional "mm-hmm" responses had become an art form, perfectly timed to slip between her breaths as I silently debated whether the houseplant needed watering.

I couldn’t even pretend my WiFi was acting up because I'd already bragged about my new fiber connection earlier.

So I sat there, a prisoner of my own politeness, as she showed me her cat's Instagram account, which apparently had more followers than I’d ever have friends.

Finally, she sighed. "Well, anyway, good catching up."

"Yeah, you too!" I replied with a level of enthusiasm that suggested I'd thoroughly enjoyed the call.

And just like that, we hung up.

I stared at my phone for a moment, marveling at the peculiar social contract we'd just fulfilled.