I was staring at the two restaurant names on my phone screen, my thumb hovering. My sister was waiting for a text back, and my partner was just as stuck. It was one of those small, silly decisions that somehow felt huge in the moment.
The weight of a simple choice
It wasn't about the food, really. It was about not wanting to be the one who picked the 'wrong' place. The one who suggested the spot with the slow service last time, or the one whose choice meant someone had a longer drive.I could feel the mental loop starting. Pros and cons for each, imagined reactions, second-guessing. All for a Tuesday night dinner. It was exhausting before we'd even decided.
Letting something else choose
That's when I remembered the coin in my pocket. It felt almost childish, a relief from the responsibility. I didn't announce it as a grand solution. I just said, "Heads for the Italian place, tails for the new Thai spot."The flip itself was a breath. For that second in the air, I wasn't deciding. The outcome didn't feel like my fault or my triumph. It was just information, delivered by chance.And the weirdest part? Once it landed, I didn't feel cheated or like I'd taken a shortcut. I just felt... done. The loop was closed.
The quiet after the spin
We went to the Thai place. It was fine. The decision, which had taken up so much space, just evaporated. We talked about other things.
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