You unlock the phone to check the time. The time is right there. This should be a short visit.
A few minutes later, you’re watching someone restore a chair. You don’t own a chair that needs restoring. Still, you’d like to see how this turns out.
Then a message. Then a question. Then an answer to a question you didn’t have when you arrived.
It’s quite pleasant. The chair looks excellent.
You put the phone down and remember: tea. You were waiting for the kettle. The kettle has finished its part of the evening.
While it boils again, you ask the chat what you should do with your night. It suggests a walk, a meal, or calling a friend. All reasonable. You ask for a few more options.
At some point, choosing how to relax has become the activity.
There’s no dramatic revelation. Nobody throws a phone into the sea. It has the weather on it, and the friend’s number, and a surprisingly good recipe you actually want to try.
You make the tea. Send your friend “you about?” Sit down before deciding what else the evening needs.
The phone lights up.
“yeah. what’s up?”
You haven’t prepared an answer. You call anyway.