Pick a friend. Every morning Rhythm asks the two of you one question. You each answer without seeing the other's, and both answers open at once. That is the whole thing — and it is how two people who never quite get round to each other end up talking.
Keeping in touch got easy and seeing anyone got hard. Everyone is a message away and nobody has a reason to send one. The people you'd most like an evening with are the ones you assume are busy.
Rhythm is the reason. One small question a day, for the two of you, that neither of you would have thought to ask. You find out what they said the moment you have said yours. It never tells you why it asked, and it never tells you to reach out — that part is yours, and it tends to happen on its own.
First
You answer, and send the link.
Start with one friend. You answer the opening question for the two of you, and send them a link. What you wrote is sealed: they can only read it by writing theirs.
Then
Every morning, another.
Rhythm writes the two of you a question a day — light more often than not, and now and then one only the two of you could answer. You each answer blind, both answers open together, and you are told when your friend has written. Skipping a day costs nothing. Only that one friend ever reads what you wrote; nobody else does, and nothing is public.
Eventually
It can tell when two lives are moving the same way.
Underneath, Rhythm reads what each of you says and draws the two of you as a pair of curves. When they move toward each other, you see it. No score, no reason given — a drawing, and what you do about it is yours.