Sit at an airport gate for an hour and you’ll realize every stranger is mid-story.

Every person walking past you is halfway through something. The man asleep across three seats is flying to a funeral or a job interview or home after four months away, and none of it is visible, and all of it is as large to him as your week is to you. People only look like background because you cannot see their middle.

Do it deliberately somewhere crowded this week, even just the bus stop. Pick three strangers and give each of them a plausible reason for being there. The guesses will be wrong, and the habit of assuming there is a story is almost always right.