INTRO

Some stories arrive burning.

You don’t know what lit them. You only know they’re headed your way.

They drift in—slow at first, then suddenly everywhere. Clinging to your clothes, coating your lungs, carrying someone else’s voice.

These are messages in disguise:

Warnings from the past.

Directions to nowhere.

A flare from someone who couldn’t stay quiet.

Smoke signals are what’s left when a truth tries to disappear.

These stories flicker. Curl. Smolder. They don’t need your permission to catch fire.

Read carefully. Some were never meant to reach you.

But now that they have—you’ll never unsee the trail.