You're mid-sentence explaining something genuinely interesting when they glance at their wrist for the third time in ninety seconds. You've started keeping pace with their watch—you speak faster when they check it, slower when they're not looking, trying to sync your words with their anxiety like you're both trapped in some horrible couples therapy for strangers. By the time you finish your point, you realize you've been narrating your own abandonment in real time, and their wrist has won.