Meet Trevor.
Trevor came to Sea Isle City to relax.
At least that was the original plan.
Somewhere between unloading the beach chair and sitting down near his usual spot around 44th Street, however, Trevor made one tiny mistake.
He opened his phone.
Locals know him as The Scary Scrolling Screamer, and this species can usually be identified by a furrowed brow, a slightly sunburned forehead, and periodic outbursts directed toward absolutely nobody nearby.
“Are you KIDDING me?!”
Nearby children stop building sandcastles.
A seagull briefly changes direction.
No one knows what’s happening.
Trevor continues.
“THIS is what’s wrong with society!”
“UNBELIEVABLE!”
“I knew it!”
The scrolling never stops.
Article after article.
Video after video.
Comment after comment.
Trevor absorbs every crisis, controversy, scandal, and outrage available to humanity before lunch.
Meanwhile around him, actual life quietly unfolds.
Kids race toward waves.
Teenagers toss footballs.
Families ride bikes along the promenade.
Dolphins surface offshore.
Ice cream melts.
Sunlight sparkles across the water.
Trevor notices none of it.
The strange thing is that Trevor sincerely believes he’s deeply connected.
“I stay informed.”
“I know what’s happening.”
“I understand the world.”
And yet if someone walked over and asked:
“Hey, where’s the promenade?”
Trevor would stare blankly.
“The what?”
Because Trevor somehow knows every international emergency, celebrity controversy, and political debate happening on Earth while remaining completely unaware that paradise is unfolding fifteen feet to his left.
Still…
around sunset, his battery finally drops below five percent.
The screen goes dark.
Trevor looks up.
Really looks up.
And for a moment he quietly says:
“Huh.”
Because Sea Isle has a funny way of eventually reclaiming people.
Even from their phones.