The spread didn't widen.
I did.
Volatility window. Same price, same size. I wipe my thumb on my jeans, dry, then lean in anyway, like posture can front-run sequence. Breath shallow. Click. Then the stupid double-click on nothing, like extra pressure can outrun an ultra-low block cadence.
Like the Firedancer client cares about my urgency.
On Fogo, the on-chain order book doesn't stretch for doubt.
I send size into the execution-critical transaction flow and feel that half-beat of "got it." The path runs clean through fogo Solana Virtual Machine compatibility, familiar instruction, unfamiliar tolerance.
The latency-optimized infrastructure doesn't negotiate with intent. The curated validator set doesn't pause for my certainty.
Fill prints.
Partial.
I swallow. Jaw tight. That specific click in my throat. The delta is small enough to look harmless, large enough to remember. A slippage-sensitive execution layer turning hesitation into allocation. Deterministic ordering did what it does, one clears, one posts. Mine posts. The parallel lanes split and my timing became geometry. Lane 2 versus lane 1. Same slot, different fates.
Becoming liquidity.
I drag my chair closer like distance matters. Like inches can reverse sequence. Flip to the trace. Same slot. Same sequence. No pending seam to hide inside. No soft middle state to negotiate with. fogo High-frequency state propagation already carried it forward. The validator mesh already settled. The 40ms boundary already sealed.
I open a ticket. Paste the delta into the title. Start typing "tim..." delete. "order..." delete. "why..." delete. Cursor blinking like it's waiting for me to explain something, Like the PoH-driven clock cares about my story.
Chat: "fill?"
My finger hovers over cancel on Fogo. Still hovering. Pressing nothing, committing nothing, arriving at closed doors. The wheel clicks once, habit, like I can unprint the partial. Like I can bring back the whole beat before the block sealed.
Thumb dry on the jeans again. Still hovering.
The rotation continues.