Write about a relationship, family or otherwise, where the distance grew slowly enough that nobody noticed until it was there.
Describe the last time you felt close to someone despite being nowhere near them. What closed the gap - a call, a letter, a shared show watched an hour apart?
A small town has followed the same unwritten rule for generations. One day, someone new arrives and doesn't know it. Write what happens next.
Digital minimalism has its own orthodoxy now. Are the rules of the movement helpful guardrails, or have they become a different kind of dogma?
What's the last default you changed — in an app, a process, or a habit — and what made you finally question it?
You've settled on your tools after years of trying others. At what point does a personal system become a rule you follow without questioning it?
Rules in software: coding standards, style guides, commit conventions. Do you follow them religiously, or do you know when to bend them?
Think about a constraint you once resented that turned out to be useful. What changed your mind?
What rule — written or unwritten — do you quietly ignore, and has ignoring it ever cost you anything?