Cassandra. On mute. No visions. Just minutes. We bring the risk in plain words. Dates. Names. Impact. A red line in a calm room. They nod like it’s weather. Then call it “later”. Cassandra! Warning delivered. Smiles received. Cassandra! Truth was first. Blame was hers. We learn the quiet spell: say it softer. make it shorter. leave room for denial. Call it “tone”. Cassandra! Warning delivered. Nods received. Cassandra! Truth was first. Blame was hers. The failure comes on schedule, wearing a surprised face. “Nobody knew.” “It’s complicated.” “We did our best.” And a name is needed. Not the cause. Just the label. Someone must be the reason. So no one has to be responsible. Responsibility hates mirrors. Cassandra! Warning delivered. Nods received. Cassandra! Truth was first. Blame was hers. We turn away. We point once. Scapegoat! Cassandra was never a myth. Just a role we keep refilling.
