You already know who.

One small rep a day, aimed at one person by name. Two minutes against a drift nobody chose.

You thought of someone before you finished that line. Neither of you meant it to be this long.

It did not end in a fight.

It ended in a hundred ordinary days where you meant to text and did not, and then it had been long enough that texting felt strange.

The gap is not the problem. The gap is only how long it has been since either of you went first.

The longest study of adult life has followed the same families since 1938. That is 88 years of evidence that close relationships, more than money or fame, are what keep people well.

So: who do you keep meaning to text?

Stays in this tab. Nothing is sent, nothing is saved.

The app naming who has gone quiet longest, Priya at two months, above the circle's embers. — The app does the same thing, every day, without being asked.

A week, not seven of the same day.

Four days ask for a message. Saturday asks you to show up. Two ask for nobody at all.

Monday

Write about one person. Nobody reads it.

Tuesday

A message to someone who went quiet.

Wednesday

Write again. Same person, or a different one.

Thursday

A question that gets past small talk.

Friday

The thanks you keep postponing.

Saturday

See someone. No text required.

Sunday

Your pick.

The daily rep screen: a Go Deeper prompt with the streak above it. — One prompt a day. Two minutes, then it goes quiet.

Monday

What did they teach you that you still use?

Rarely advice. Usually a habit I picked up without ever noticing whose it was. He wrote the hard email before coffee, every time.

Nobody reads this. Not us, not anyone.

The next day it hands you this.

Hey you, you have been on my mind this week. You taught me to write the hard email before coffee. How have you been?

Your sentence, carried across whole. You send it.

Private by architecture, not by promise.

No feed.
No account.
No likes, no followers, no profile to keep up.
No server to upload to, so nothing is uploaded.

You did not type a name, and this page still made no request. Scroll back and try it: nothing will change about that.

Reunited never asks for your address book. You hand it one person at a time through Apple's own picker, so it cannot read the rest. And the model that helps you word a reply runs on the iPhone itself, which is why the message you paste in never leaves it. The privacy policy says the same thing at length, and it is short.

Stuck on a reply: paste their message and get three ways to answer. — They wrote back and you froze. Three ways to answer, worked out on your phone.

Free forever, and specific about it.

Nothing you get for free ever moves behind the paywall. That is a pledge, in writing, and this is the list it covers.

Free

The daily rep, every day
Both reflection days, every week
One person in your circle, forever — with the opener written for you
Reply Coach: paste what they sent, get three ways back
Home-screen widget, streaks, one reminder

No trial to lapse. Nothing to cancel.

Hearth

Everyone else, with the rep rotating across them
Sounds like me: drafts that open the way you write
Plan something: spots and invites
Call prep, history, widget themes, a second rep

$39.99 a year after a 7-day free trial, or $89.99 once. US prices.

The hearth screen: everyone in your circle as an ember that glows when you reach out. — Hearth holds the rest of your people. Each one an ember that dims as the weeks pass.

The screen after a rep: a checkmark and the word Reunited. — Every day ends on the same word.

Reunited is in private beta ahead of its App Store release. Leave an email or a phone number and you will hear when a spot opens.

Goes straight to support@reunited.day. One email when a spot opens, nothing else.

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