Joe leaned in, his voice tighter this time, carrying a sense of urgency.
“They call us crazy,” he said, “but look around, Nelly… World War 3 is starting to take shape, and nobody wants to say it out loud.”
Nelly frowned, searching his face. “That’s a big claim, Joe.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “and the people laughing at it? Half of them don’t even believe what they’re saying. They just repeat whatever keeps them safe, whatever keeps the money flowing. Sycophants. They’d rather play along than face what’s coming.”
Nelly crossed her arms. “So you think they see it too?”
“Some of them do,” Joe said. “But admitting it means risk—losing status, losing comfort. It’s easier to call us crazy than to admit the world’s shifting under their feet.”
She was quiet for a moment. “And us?”
Joe exhaled slowly. “We’re the ones willing to say it, even if it sounds insane. I’d rather be wrong and honest than right and silent.”
Nelly shook her head, half-smiling, half-worried. “That kind of thinking gets people in trouble.”
Joe nodded. “Maybe. But pretending everything’s fine when it’s not… that’s how people get blindsided.”
