Write it now. It opens when you say.
Print a sheet. Write on one. Hand it over.
- in 60 seconds
- at noon
- on the wedding morning
- in four years
later.cards/demo
Opens in
0:00
Open now
On the phone that scanned it. This card is torn up in 0:30.
Plate 01
Two hands passing a printed card across a café table, morning light, the rest of the sheet of eight still lying on the table.
Sixteen things to do with a blank card.
There is no single right wait. Pick the moment it should open — a minute from now, or the morning it matters.
Minutes, to a day
The wait is short enough that you are often still in the room for it.
Plate 02
A lunchbox open on a kitchen counter at seven in the morning, the card tucked upright against the sandwich.
60 seconds
Across the table
Slide it over mid-conversation. A minute of not knowing, then they read it while you watch.
a minute
Clue number three
A scavenger hunt where the wait is the puzzle. They stand there. Then it opens.
at noon
The lunchbox note
Tucked beside the sandwich at seven, opening at noon while you are somewhere else.
an hour
A tip you cannot hand over
For the barista on the late shift, opening after your train has gone.
five minutes
Left on a park bench
For whoever sits down next. You never find out who that was.
that evening
The last card on the table
Left by the flowers at a wedding, opening on the drive home.
Months, to years
Written while you feel it, addressed to the morning it will matter.
Plate 03
A wedding table at the end of the night — glasses, a folded napkin, one card left face-down.
a week
The morning of the exam
Written while they are still revising, dated to the hour they sit down.
the last day of term
The end of the school year
Written in September by a teacher, addressed to July.
a year out
One year on
Written tonight, addressed to the same night next year, from the person you are now.
the day they move in
The morning of the move
Left in a drawer of the old flat, dated to their first morning in the new one.
A date you name
Not a duration at all — a calendar day, chosen once and then left alone.
a year out
The first anniversary
Sealed on the wedding day itself, addressed to the same date a year out.
when you finish it
Page one hundred and one
Slipped into the last chapter. Open when you finish the book — and not before.
after take-off
The boarding gate
Handed over at the gate, dated to the hour the plane has already pushed back.
four years on
A time capsule
Put in the box with everything else, dated to the morning it comes back out, four years on.
handover day
In the cornerstone
Laid in with the cornerstone, dated to the morning they hand over the keys.
graduation morning
The empty chair
Written for a graduation you already know you will miss, dated to that morning.
Three things, and none of them is an app.
01
Print the sheet
Eight blank cards on one page. Cut them apart; each one carries its own address and claim code.
02
Write on one
Claim it here, type the message, add a photo if you want, and set how long they wait — or the date it opens.
03
Hand it over
They scan it. The clock starts. The card opens without you in the room.
What a stranger sees.
Somebody is going to point a camera at a card they were handed. Here is everything that happens next.
Found a card and not sure about it? Read what scanning one does before you point a camera at it.
- No account to read oneThe person scanning gets a web page. No app, no sign-up, no name to give.
- Sealed until its timeThe words are encrypted at rest, not sitting in a database in plain text waiting for the hour.
- Yours to withdrawEdit it until the first scan; withdraw it at any time, before or after, and it stops opening.
- Not kept foreverA card waiting on a scan is deleted after ninety days. Once a message opens, the free plan keeps it a year.
- Moderated for harm, not for tasteWe look for threats. What you say to someone you love is not our business.
- No adsNot on the free sheet, not on the paid plan, not anywhere.
Questions people actually ask.
Does the person scanning need an app or an account?
No. The card opens a web page in whatever browser their camera hands it to. Nothing to install, nothing to sign up for, no name to give.
What if they scan it earlier than I meant them to?
The wait starts at the first scan, not when you wrote it. Scanning early only starts the clock early — they still see nothing until it runs out, and you can see that it was scanned.
How long can the wait be?
From no wait at all up to a day on the free plan, or up to a year on the paid one — or a calendar date instead of a duration. That date can be thirty days out on the free plan, and years further on the paid one.
Can I put a photo on it?
Yes. One image alongside the words, revealed at the same moment they are.
What does it cost?
The printable sheet of eight is free. There is a paid plan for people who need more than a sheet; the price is on the sign-in side.
Can I change it after I have handed it over?
You can edit the message until the moment it is first scanned. After that the words are fixed — but you can withdraw the card at any time, and it stops opening.
What happens if nobody ever scans it?
Nothing. A card that is never scanned never starts its clock. One waiting on a scan expires quietly ninety days after you wrote it; one set to open on a date keeps until its date has passed.
Is it safe to scan a card I found?
A Later card only ever shows a message after a timer. It never asks for a password, a payment, or an install. What scanning a card does explains what to check.
Eight blank cards, one sheet of paper.
Print it, write on one, and hand it to somebody. We will keep it shut until the minute you chose. — Later, 2026.
Get your cardsFree. There is a paid plan if a sheet of eight is not enough.
Plate 04
A hand holding a phone at arm’s length with the message just opened, the printed card still in the other hand.