A sharp intake of breath. A pause, imperceptible but charged. The illusion of neutrality fractures, and something unseen is forced into view. A skull measured, a law passed, a room recalibrated. Racism is always someone else’s problem—until it isn’t. Until it is measured, but only on terms that absolve. Until it moves, shifting probability, collapsing into sight at the moment of impact. What if racism is not a question of guilt, but of wavefunctions? What if it is not a moral stain, but a quantum haze? What happens when we stop asking if it exists and start asking where it will move next?

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