Chapter [13]: [ORDER FLOW]
Ethan started paying closer attention to who was buying.
Not usernames—wallet behavior. Timing. The rhythm of small orders placed at regular intervals, the hesitant bursts that followed minor dips. Order flow told a story price never could.
Mt. Gox's interface made it harder than it should have been, but patterns still leaked through. Someone was accumulating quietly. Not efficiently, not expertly—but persistently.
Retail optimism didn't look like this.
At the copy shop, Carl finally said the words he'd been circling for weeks.
"I have to let someone go."
Ethan nodded before Carl finished the sentence.
"Is it me?" Ethan asked.
Carl hesitated. "If you want it to be."
Ethan understood immediately. He'd become optional. Reliable, but not indispensable.
"I'll finish out the week," Ethan said. "Help train Trevor."
Carl exhaled in relief. "I appreciate that."
That night, Ethan walked home slower than usual. The city felt indifferent, as cities always did. Jobs ended. Systems shifted. Individuals absorbed the shock.
He wasn't angry.
This, too, had been priced in.
He updated his spreadsheet again, moving from projected to realized. The numbers still worked, barely. Time compressed.
Maya came over with takeout and quiet concern written all over her face.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yes," Ethan said. "But less buffered."
She sat beside him, shoulder touching his. "You don't have to do this alone."
He almost said I know. Almost.
Instead, he said, "I don't want to make my instability someone else's burden."
She looked at him for a long moment. "That's not how partnership works."
The word landed heavier than intended.
Later, after she left, Ethan logged into Mt. Gox and watched the order book again. Another small buy. Same size as before. Same spacing.
Order flow, he thought. Someone else thinking long-term. Or pretending to.
He considered increasing his position.
Not dramatically. Not recklessly. Just enough to matter later.
His finger hovered over the mouse.
Then he stopped.
Not yet.
He closed the browser and opened his exit paths document instead, adding a new line.
Loss of wage income.
Under it, he wrote: Focus increases. Stress increases. Optionality decreases.
Before bed, he checked his wallet and verified his backups. Again.
Order flow wasn't just about markets.
It was about life—how events queued up, how pressure accumulated, how decisions executed whether you were ready or not.
And right now, his own order flow was thinning.
The next move would matter more than the last ten combined.