Congratulations! You’re the Chosen One

Dave Saunders had spent his Tuesday afternoon the same way he spent most Tuesday afternoons: avoiding work, scrolling on his phone, and wondering how early was too early to microwave a pasty.

Then, the sky cracked open.

A booming voice echoed across the office, rattling coffee mugs and making Sandra from HR spill her tea. “DAVID SAUNDERS,” it bellowed, “YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE.”

Dave sighed.

“Right,” he muttered. “And what exactly am I chosen for?”

A golden portal materialised in front of his desk, swirling with celestial energy and an unreasonable amount of dramatic lighting. A robed wizard stepped through, staff in hand, eyes glowing with divine knowledge.

“Oh, brilliant,” Dave said. “Another one.”

The office workers stared. The IT guy took out his phone to record. Sandra was still mopping up her tea.

The wizard looked momentarily flustered, then recovered. “The prophecy has foretold your coming! The Dark Lord is rising! You alone can save the world!”

Dave swivelled slightly in his chair. “Yeah, see, I’m really busy today, so…”

The wizard blinked at the empty desk and the Microsoft Outlook tab open to a blank email draft.

“But—but you’re the one!” the wizard stammered. “Born under the Blood Moon! Marked by fate! A warrior destined to wield the Sacred Blade and bring balance to the realm!”

Dave took a sip of his lukewarm instant coffee. “Alright, couple of things. One, I was born in Stoke-on-Trent under some very ordinary streetlights. Two, I don’t ‘wield’ anything. The last time I tried axe-throwing at a stag do, I nearly took out the instructor.”

“But the prophecy—”

“The prophecy can get in line,” Dave said, pointing at his inbox full of ignored emails. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t really have time for all that ‘hero’s journey’ nonsense. I’ve got a report due by Friday and a dentist appointment I’ve already rescheduled three times.”

The wizard hesitated. “But… the fate of the world—”

The wizard stared. The entire office stared. Even the IT guy had stopped recording.

“But… this is not how these things should work,” the wizard finally muttered.

“Well, maybe you lot shouldn’t keep having Dark Lords popping up all the time,” Dave pointed out.

The wizard’s eye twitched. His dramatic celestial glow flickered slightly.

“Besides,” Dave continued, taking another sip of his coffee, “even if I agreed to this, what’s the deal? Do I get paid? Dental? A company horse?”

“You would be rewarded with eternal glory,” the wizard said weakly.

“Uh-huh. And how’s the annual leave policy?”

“…There isn’t one.”

“Right. Yeah, no, I think I’ll pass.”

The wizard’s shoulders slumped. He turned to leave, then paused. “What if I offered you a powerful enchanted sword?”

Dave shrugged. “Can I trade it for a Greggs voucher?”

The wizard sighed, muttered something about “the end of civilisation,” and vanished into a puff of mystical smoke.

Dave leaned back in his chair. “Honestly,” he said, “some people just don’t know how to recruit properly.”

And with that, he returned to his phone, scrolling until it was an acceptable time to microwave his pasty.

Signs Your Partner Might Actually Be Five Squirrels in a Trench Coat

Love is blind, they say. But is it this blind? You thought you found the perfect partner—charming, mysterious, maybe a little jittery—but something just feels… off. They disappear for long periods, avoid direct questions, and seem way too interested in nuts. Could it be that your significant other isn’t a single human being at all, but rather five squirrels working together in an elaborate disguise?

Here are some clear warning signs that you may, in fact, be dating a highly coordinated team of woodland rodents.

1. They Avoid Sitting in Chairs Like a Normal Person

Have you ever actually seen them sit in a chair properly? No, they either crouch on the edge, sit bolt upright with an unnatural stiffness, or refuse to sit at all. They might even grip the chair arms a little too tightly, as if struggling against gravity. Almost as if… they’re trying to prevent the whole operation from toppling over.

2. They’re Weirdly Obsessed with Trees

A casual stroll in the park turns into an uncomfortable experience. Their eyes dart toward every tree, their whole body (bodies?) tensing. They get distracted mid-conversation whenever they spot an oak, and they always suggest sitting under a tree instead of at a café. One time, you caught them stroking the bark and whispering, “Home.”

3. Their Diet Consists Almost Entirely of Nuts and Berries

When you first started dating, you thought it was just a quirky personality trait. “Oh, they’re just really into healthy snacks!” But now that you think about it, they’ve never ordered anything at a restaurant that requires cutlery. They recoil at the sight of soup, avoid pasta like the plague, and get visibly excited whenever they spot an unattended bowl of peanuts.

4. Their Hands Are Always Hidden

Gloves. Long sleeves. A firm commitment to pockets. They refuse to let you see their hands, no matter how many times you jokingly ask, “What, are you hiding something?” If you do manage to catch a glimpse, they seem… smaller than expected. Strangely dexterous. Suspiciously furry.

5. Their Speech Patterns Are Strange and Repetitive

They keep repeating phrases like “Yes, indeed, what a normal human thing to say” or “Ah, the stock market, of course, a topic I understand.” Their vocabulary leans heavily toward survivalist themes: “Dangerous world out there.” “Must be alert at all times.” “Food storage is key.” If you ask them about their childhood, they get evasive and say something cryptic like, “I was raised in the trees.”

6. They Have a Deep-Seated Fear of Dogs

You introduce them to your friend’s Labrador, and suddenly, they’re on edge. Their body stiffens, their eyes widen, and they slowly start edging toward the nearest tree. When the dog finally notices them and barks, they disappear so fast you barely see them go. Later, they claim they “just had somewhere to be.”

7. You Once Caught Them Trying to Fit Into a Postbox

This should have been the moment you realised. Maybe it was a dare, maybe they said they “dropped something,” but no normal human attempts to crawl inside a postbox with such determination. When you confronted them, they panicked and threw a handful of acorns at you before bolting at an inhuman speed.

What To Do If You Suspect Your Partner is Five Squirrels in a Trench Coat

• Test their reflexes. Drop something suddenly—do they dart after it with alarming precision?

• Offer them a salad. If they pick out everything except the nuts, you have your answer: you’re dating an unstable stack of rodents.

At this point, you have two choices:

1. Confront them. Sit them down (if they can sit) and ask for the truth.

2. Accept it. Maybe love really is blind. Maybe five squirrels working together in perfect harmony is actually the most romantic thing of all.

Either way, just know this: your relationship will require a steady supply of cashews.

Hollywood Announces Bold New Plan to Remake Every Movie Ever Made, Forever

Hollywood executives have unveiled an ambitious new initiative to remake, reboot, and reimagine every single movie that has ever existed, ensuring that original ideas will remain safely buried where they belong.

The announcement included a slate of upcoming remakes, including:

• Titanic (2026) – Now a cinematic universe where multiple Titanics sink across different timelines.

• The Godfather (2027) – Starring a TikTok influencer with 50 million followers but no acting experience.

• Jaws (2028) – Remade with 100% CGI and a gritty backstory for the shark where he’s actually the misunderstood hero.

• Citizen Kane (2030) – Reworked as a musical with EDM remixes and a post-credits scene teasing a sequel.

Industry analysts say the strategy is foolproof.

“Think about it,” said film historian Mark Reynolds. “If you watch a movie as a kid, then Hollywood remakes it when you’re an adult, you’ll go watch it for nostalgia. Then, when you’re old, they’ll remake it again, and you’ll go see it for nostalgia of your nostalgia.”

Some critics have voiced concerns that Hollywood’s obsession with remakes is killing creativity.

However, studio representatives dismissed these fears, stating:

“As long as people keep showing up, we’ll keep pressing Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V.”

What’s Next?

Looking ahead, Hollywood is already working on the remake of the remake of the remake of Spider-Man.

A Guide to Making Small Talk

Small talk is an art—one that, when wielded correctly, can turn brief, forgettable encounters into excruciating experiences people will remember forever. Whether you’re at a party, in a lift, or trapped in an Uber with a driver who just won’t take a hint, here’s a foolproof guide to ensuring your small talk is as uncomfortable as humanly possible.

1. Start With a Wildly Inappropriate Icebreaker

Most people ease into conversation with something light—weather, current events, a vague compliment. Boring. Instead, kick things off with something truly unsettling:

• “Ever wonder what your last words will be?”

• “Do you think your cat secretly hates you?”

• “I read somewhere that eating too much rhubarb can kill you. Anyway, what’s your name?”

Watch as their eyes widen in mild panic, and congratulations—you’ve already made an impact.

2. Make Every Compliment Slightly Creepy

If you must resort to a compliment, make sure it leaves the recipient with more questions than answers.

• Instead of: “Nice jacket!”

• Say: “That jacket really suits you. I knew it would.”

• Instead of: “You have great hair.”

• Say: “Your hair reminds me of someone… but I can’t remember who. They disappeared under mysterious circumstances.”

3. Ask Deeply Personal Questions Immediately

Forget polite chit-chat; real connections happen fast. Cut through the nonsense and demand emotional vulnerability from the start.

• “When was the last time you cried in public?”

• “Do you consider yourself a good person, or just someone who avoids getting caught?”

If they hesitate, maintain unblinking eye contact until they answer.

4. Answer Every Question in the Most Confusing Way Possible

If someone tries to steer the conversation back to normal, resist.

• Them: “So, what do you do for work?”

• You: “I mostly haunt places.”

• Them: “How’s your evening going?”

• You: “Better than most. Worse than some. Time is a flat circle.”

• Them: “Do you live around here?”

• You: “In a sense.”

Now they’ll have to decide if they want to dig deeper or run. Either way, you win.

5. Respond to Every Silence with an Overly Intense Statement

Nothing kills a conversation like an awkward pause. Which is why you should fill those pauses—with something that immediately makes everyone regret starting this interaction in the first place.

• “I used to make plans. Then I realised everything we do is just a distraction from the inevitable.”

• “If you had to fight one person here, who would it be?”

6. Exit the Conversation on the Most Suspicious Note Possible

If your interlocutor somehow stays this long, it’s time for a grand finale. Leave the conversation with a vague yet haunting remark, ensuring they think about you long after you’re gone.

• “I should go. The police are probably looking for me.”

• “Well, enjoy your night. And remember: don’t answer the door if you hear knocking after midnight.”

Then simply walk away, leaving them with nothing but a deep sense of unease.

Final Thoughts

Making small talk is an essential life skill, but making memorable small talk is high art. By following this guide, you can ensure that strangers will not only regret speaking to you but possibly rethink their entire approach to social interaction.

And isn’t that what conversation is all about?

How to Break Up Like a Professional

Ending a relationship is never easy, but it can be efficient. Why waste time on teary, emotional conversations when you can deliver a clear, data-driven exit strategy?

Step 1: Schedule a Formal Meeting

Casual breakups are for amateurs. Instead of vague texts or dramatic confrontations, send a well-crafted calendar invite titled “Relationship Performance Review”.

Step 2: Prepare Your Breakup Presentation

Craft a concise, informative, and brutally honest PowerPoint deck. Keep it under five slides—nobody likes an overlong presentation.

Slide 1: Title Slide

• A simple, professional title like “Moving Forward: A Relationship Realignment Proposal.”

Slide 2: Relationship Performance Overview

Key highlights:

• Strengths: “We had a good run. Mutual love of pizza etc.”

• Weaknesses: “Severe communication breakdowns. You never laugh at my jokes.”

• Opportunities: “Escape from the daily misery of coming home to you, etc.”

• Threats: “If we continue, resentment will spike. Risk of accidental marriage.”

(Pro tip: Include a bar graph comparing happiness levels at the start vs. now. Let the data do the talking.)

Slide 3: The Decision Matrix

• A flowchart demonstrating why staying together is not a viable option.

• Key categories: Emotional exhaustion, lifestyle incompatibility, general levels of suffering.

• Use an arrow leading inevitably to “Breakup Confirmed.”

Slide 4: The Exit Strategy

• Clearly outline the roadmap with milestones and next steps to ensure a smooth transition, such as a social media deletion strategy: “You untag first, then I do.”

Step 3: Deliver the Breakup with Confidence

Use corporate jargon to soften the blow:

• “I appreciate all the effort you’ve put into this project.”

• “Unfortunately, I must pivot towards personal growth at this time.”

• “It’s not you; it’s the evolving market conditions.”

Step 4: Handle the Q&A Session

After your presentation, open the floor for questions. Be prepared for the following:

• “Can we still be friends?”

• Suggested response: “We are open to renegotiating our terms after a cooling-off period.”

• “Is there someone else?”

• Suggested response: “Due to confidentiality clauses, I cannot confirm or deny third-party involvement.”

• “Do you even care?”

• Suggested response: “I value our shared history but must prioritise future investments.”

Step 5: Wrap It Up and Log Off

• Conclude with a firm handshake.

• Send a formal follow-up email:

Subject: “Relationship Dissolution Summary & Next Steps”

Dear [Name],

Thank you for your time today. As discussed, our relationship will be concluding effective immediately. Please find attached our breakup agreement with key points outlined. Let me know if you require clarification on any items.

Wishing you continued success.

Best regards,

[Your Name]

Final Notes

Breaking up doesn’t have to be messy. With a professional approach, you can streamline the process, and ensure both parties walk away with clear deliverables and actionable next steps.

Job Interview Tips from a Chronic Overthinker

Ah, job interviews. That magical experience where a stranger decides your entire fate based on how well you can pretend to be a functioning human for 30 minutes. If you, like me, suffer from chronic overthinking, you’ll know that preparing for a job interview isn’t just about research and confidence—it’s about meticulously crafting every possible scenario in your head, and ultimately sabotaging yourself by saying something deeply unhinged.

To help you navigate this minefield of anxiety, I’ve compiled some foolproof job interview tips, designed specifically for overthinkers.

1. When They Ask “Tell Me About Yourself,” Try Not to Have an Identity Crisis

This is where normal people say something simple like, “I’m a marketing professional with five years of experience” and so on.

This is not what you will do.

Instead, you’ll briefly forget who you are, panic, and blurt out something alarming like, “Oh wow, where do I even start? Well, I was born on a Tuesday, I have a fear of deep water, and one time in primary school I cried because I thought the sun was following me.”

Alternative Strategy: Memorise a safe, boring script. If you feel the urge to overshare, don’t!

2. Maintain Eye Contact (But Not in a Psychotic Way)

Eye contact is important! But if you’re an overthinker, you will immediately start obsessing about it.

Too much eye contact? Intimidating.

Too little? Suspicious.

Accidentally stare at their forehead instead? Now you look cross-eyed.

Alternative Strategy: Use the “triangle method”—casually shift your gaze between their eyes and nose. If you forget how to blink, just fake a thoughtful nod to break the tension.

3. The “What’s Your Greatest Weakness?” Trap

A normal person would say something harmless like “I sometimes get too invested in my work.”

You, however, are about to overthink yourself into oblivion.

• First thought: Should I be honest?

• Second thought: If I say something too weak, will they think I’m a liar?

• Third thought: If I say something too real, will they call security?

• Fourth thought: Why do I have so many weaknesses? Am I a fundamentally flawed human?

And before you know it, you’ve said something horrifying like, “My biggest weakness is that I feel crippling guilt over what I did in the summer of 2009.”

Alternative Strategy: Pick a fake weakness. Something harmless. Something that makes you sound both flawed and employable. Try: “I sometimes over-organise things” or “I care too much about the Oxford comma.”

4. The Deadly Silence After a Question

They ask a question. You answer. Then… silence.

At this moment, your brain will catastrophise at lightspeed:

• Oh no. They hated my answer.

• Are they waiting for me to say more?

• Did I accidentally insult their entire family?

• Did I just ruin my entire future?

To fill the silence, you will start nervously rambling. You’ll tell them a completely unnecessary story. You’ll say “Does that make sense?” 27 times. You’ll add an awkward laugh at the end, even if the topic wasn’t funny.

Alternative Strategy: When you finish your answer, STOP TALKING. Count to three in your head if needed. Interviewers sometimes pause—it doesn’t mean they’re judging your soul.

5. “Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years?”—A Loaded Question

Normal people answer this with “I hope to advance my skills and grow within the company.”

Overthinkers? Oh no. We see this as a trap.

• What if I don’t know?

• What if in five years I’m dead? Should I factor that in?

By the time you’ve finished spiralling, you’ll blurt out something like, “In five years? Oh. Um. Ideally, I’d like to have a dog.”

Instead, say something about how all your ambitions will be fulfilled by devoting your precious life’s energy to working for their tedious company (but try not to mention the tedious part).

6. Handling an Unexpected Question Without Having a Meltdown

Some interviewers like to throw in an unexpected question just to see how you react.

• “If you were an animal, what would you be?”

• “Describe yourself in three words.”

• “How many basketballs would fit in this room?”

Your overthinking brain will not process this like a fun challenge. It will immediately panic.

• Why basketballs?

• What if I pick the wrong animal? Am I now stuck with that as my spirit guide?

• What are three words that sum me up? “Chronically, Anxious, Overthinker”??

Before you know it, you’ve answered, “I’d be a squirrel because I have a lot of anxiety and like snacks,” and now you’ve ruined your credibility.

Alternative Strategy: Take a breath. Laugh a little. If needed, stall with “That’s a great question!” while your brain catches up.

7. Ending the Interview Without Ruining Everything

The interview is almost over. You’ve survived. Now comes the final hurdle: the goodbye.

If you’re an overthinker, this will not go smoothly.

You will accidentally say “You too” when they say “Good luck.”

You will wave in a weird way.

You will stand up too quickly and knock over your chair.

You will walk to the wrong door and then have to turn around in shame.

Alternative Strategy: Move slowly. Think before you speak. If you mess up, just pretend, with confidence, that you meant to do it.

Final Thoughts

If you’re an overthinker, job interviews are basically an extreme sport. So breathe. Speak slowly. And for God’s sake, do not talk about squirrels.

Unless the interviewer loves squirrels. Then, by all means, lean into it.

The Mirror Test

The test was mandatory. These days, everyone had to take it, no exceptions.

Sofia sat in the sterile white room, as the doctor reviewed her results. The Mirror Test was simple—look into the machine, let it scan you, and wait for confirmation. Human. That’s what it was supposed to say. 100% human.

The doctor wasn’t speaking. His face had gone slack.

“Something wrong?” asked Sofia.

The doctor’s eyes flicked up to her, hesitant. “It’s… probably just an error.”

He tapped at the screen, then hesitated.

“Could you look in the mirror for me?” he asked. His voice was too careful, too neutral.

There was a large mirror on the wall opposite her seat. It ran from the floor to the ceiling, wide enough to reflect the entire room. She had already glanced at it before. It was just her, sitting in an empty chair.

Still, she turned her head.

The mirror was empty.

Her chair was there. The table, the lights, the doctor standing there—his face pale, his breath uneven.

But she wasn’t there.

Sofia looked down at her hands, flexed her fingers. She touched her face, felt the warmth of her own skin. She was here. She was real.

The doctor’s eyes were darting toward the door. His gaze was terrified, looking around her instead of at her.

Then, too softly, he whispered, “What the hell are you?”

A sharp click came from the door behind her. Locking.

Then the lights flickered out. The doctor screamed.

Sofia always felt more comfortable in the dark.

Texts Ruined by Autocorrect

Once a noble invention designed to streamline our messages and save us from our own typos, autocorrect has instead become a rogue agent of chaos. It has an uncanny ability to derail apologies, sabotage romance, and transform heartfelt sentiments into deranged gibberish.

Take, for example, the perils of intellectual discourse. You’re making a profound point, aiming to impress with your knowledge of psychology, only for autocorrect to intervene:

“The theory of cognitive dissonance suggests that—”

Autocorrect: “The theory of corgi distance suggests that—”

Nothing dismantles an intellectual argument faster than an unexpected parade of small, faraway dogs.

But nowhere is autocorrect more diabolical than in the realm of romance. You’re crafting the perfect flirty message—light, witty, effortlessly charming. You type:

“Can’t wait to see you tonight, beautiful.”

Autocorrect: “Can’t wait to see you tonight, bathtub.”

Congratulations. You are now a psychopath. There is no recovering from this. Even worse:

• “Hey babe” → “Hey bank” (Are you in love, or in debt?)

• “Hey babe” → “Hey Baby Yoda” (Unclear, but certainly a vibe.)

• “Sending love” → “Sending lice.”

• “Can’t wait to see you” → “Can’t want to sue you.”

Autocorrect’s appetite for destruction is especially brutal in moments of grief. A friend has suffered a terrible loss. You carefully compose a message of sympathy:

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Let me know if you need anything.”

Autocorrect: “I’m so sorry for your boss. Let me know if you need anything.”

Now, instead of offering comfort, you appear to be mourning the fate of corporate leadership.

Then there’s damage control. You’ve made a mistake. You need to apologise. You type:

• “Please forgive me.” → “Please forget me.” (Devastating.)

• “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” → “I didn’t meme to hurt you.” (Sure, blame it on the internet culture.)

And at its most malevolent, autocorrect strikes when you’re sending a spicy text. You write:

“Can’t wait to kiss you all over.”

Autocorrect: “Can’t wait to kiss you all ogre.”

Even worse:

• “I’m in bed waiting for you.” → “I’m in debt waiting for you.”

Autocorrect is proof that technology, for all its intelligence, has no sense of timing, tact, or emotional nuance.

Try talking instead, but without the Freudian slips this time.

Local Man Achieves Spiritual Awakening After Finding £10 Note in Old Coat Pocket

In what experts are calling “a profound breakthrough in modern spirituality,” local man Darren Wilkes, 38, achieved full enlightenment yesterday upon discovering a £10 note in the pocket of his old winter coat.

Wilkes, a self-proclaimed seeker of meaning, had previously embarked on a decade-long journey of self-discovery through yoga retreats, meditation apps, and a suspiciously expensive online course titled Manifest Your Best Self Through Crystal Healing. However, nothing had quite opened his third eye like the unexpected appearance of legal tender.

“I was just patting the pockets, hoping for an old bus ticket to scribble on, and there it was,” said Wilkes, still visibly glowing. “I reached in, felt the crumpled paper, and in that moment, I saw the truth of existence. Everything just… made sense.”

Friends and family report that Wilkes has undergone a remarkable transformation. Once prone to existential moaning, he now spends his days sharing the gospel of “checking your pockets more often” and “living in the now, because you never know what’s been left in your jeans.”

Wilkes’s wife, Sandra, remains cautiously optimistic about his newfound enlightenment. “It’s nice that he’s stopped going on about his ‘inner void,’” she said. “But now he’s redecorated the living room with signs saying ‘Abundance is all around us – especially in unworn jackets.’”

Local spiritual leaders have expressed mixed reactions to Wilkes’s epiphany. The Reverend Michael Fadden of St. John’s Church praised the simplicity of Wilkes’s discovery. “Sometimes, the divine works in mysterious ways,” he said. “Though, to be honest, I’d prefer if our congregation found God through prayer rather than rifling through old coats.”

However, not everyone is convinced. Dr. Naomi Hughes, a psychologist specialising in sudden spiritual awakenings, warned that Wilkes’s experience might be more about dopamine than destiny. “Finding money unexpectedly triggers a surge of happiness,” she explained. “But calling it ‘nirvana’ is a bit of a stretch. Otherwise, cash machines would be considered holy sites.”

Despite the scepticism, Wilkes remains steadfast in his conviction. He has launched a YouTube channel, Pocket of Wisdom, where he shares life-changing insights such as “Always check behind the sofa cushions” and “Sometimes, happiness is just a crumpled fiver away.”

When asked what his next steps would be, Wilkes responded with a serene smile. “I’m going to the charity shop to try on all the coats. I believe the universe has more blessings to bestow.”

A Day in the Life of a Pigeon Who’s Seen Too Much

06:00 – The Awakening

I jolt awake, heart pounding. The nightmares are back. The things I’ve seen. The horrors. The discarded chips left to rot. The toddler who gripped a handful of bread and then… just walked away. The betrayal.

I shake off the memories, ruffle my feathers, and fly off into another day of survival.

06:30 – Breakfast

The scent of stale dough lingers in the air. Near the bin, a chunk of bagel sits in the dust, untouched. My instincts scream at me: Trap. I’ve seen it before. An easy meal never comes without risk.

I scan the area. No hawks, no sudden movements. Hunger gnaws at my gut. I swoop down, talons scraping pavement, and peck cautiously.

It’s good. Too good.

Then I hear it—the flutter of wings.

Terry. The bastard.

“Oi, that’s my bagel,” he squawks, landing hard beside me.

There’s no discussion, no diplomacy. He lunges. We spiral in a flurry of wings, beaks snapping, feet clawing. The bagel is forgotten, kicked aside, rolling ever so slowly into the road—right into the path of a double-decker bus.

Gone.

We pause, both panting. Terry glares at me. I glare at Terry. The battle is over, but the war? The war never ends.

11:30 – The Child

The park is busy. The air smells of damp grass, fried food, and uncertainty.

Then I see him. A small human. Sticky hands. Beady eyes. The scent of bread clings to him like a warning.

The others are moving in, but I stay back. I’ve been in this game too long. I know better.

He lifts a chubby hand. A smile spreads across his face.

Then—chaos.

He screams in delight, throws the bread into the air, then charges at us, arms flailing.

The flock erupts into a frenzy of wings and terror. Feathers rain down.

I barely escape, wings beating furiously, my heart pounding. Never trust the small ones. Never.

15:00 – The Forbidden Zone

A pigeon I don’t recognise lands beside me. His feathers are ruffled, his eyes darting back and forth.

“You ever been to The Station?” he asks.

I shudder. The Station. Where birds go in but never come out.

“I knew a pigeon,” I say, voice low. “Tried to grab a chip off the tracks once.”

The memory haunts me. The screech of metal. The blur of motion. The feathers everywhere.

“Stay away from The Station,” I whisper.

The strange pigeon nods. Then, without another word, he flies off into the grey. I watch him go, wondering if I’ll ever see him again.

19:00 – The Sky is Ours

As the sun sets, we gather on rooftops, watching the city below. The humans hurry home, their heads down, their bodies hunched against the wind. Trapped in their strange routines.

We are free. We are everywhere.

A gust of wind rattles the city. The last light of day gleams off glass and concrete.

Then I see it.

Below, a man drops an entire sandwich.

Silence.

Then the cry goes up. A battle cry.

The flock descends.

Feathers, beaks, claws—we are a storm, an unstoppable force.

Tonight, we feast.

“It’s Just a Phase,” Say Parents, As Son’s Career in Finance Stretches Into Third Decade

Mark Wilkins, 52, has been reassured by his parents that his well-paid, stable career in finance is merely a temporary diversion from his true path in life—writing a novel about a sad man in a café.

Despite working as a senior investment strategist for 27 years, earning six figures, and owning a four-bedroom house, Mark’s mother, Janet, 76, remains confident that he will eventually “grow out of this financial services nonsense” and return to his real calling as a writer, a passion he last pursued in 1994 after reading Catcher in the Rye.

“We all go through these little detours,” said Janet, rifling through his childhood sketches for evidence that he once wanted to be an artist. “One minute you’re selling your soul to corporate greed, the next you’re scribbling away in a Parisian attic, truly feeling things.”

Mark, who currently has a wife, two children, and a mortgage, confirmed that his parents regularly remind him that he “used to have such an imagination” before “falling in with the wrong crowd” at HSBC.

“I keep telling him, all it takes is one spontaneous road trip to Tuscany,” said his father, Brian, 78, who once watched Eat, Pray, Love and now believes all life’s problems can be solved by dropping everything and moving abroad. “Mark could be writing brooding poetry about autumn leaves while sipping espresso by now if he hadn’t got so caught up in this whole ‘having financial stability’ charade.”

When asked for comment, Mark sighed deeply and revealed that he has, in fact, been secretly working on his novel for the past 15 years. “It’s about a disillusioned banker who quits his job to find meaning in the world,” he admitted. “So far, he’s spent 200 pages sitting in a café thinking about quitting his job.”

Mark’s parents remain hopeful that, any day now, he’ll “come to his senses” and abandon his financial security for a life of artistic struggle. “It’s just a phase,” Janet insisted. “He’ll grow out of it.”

Employee Gets Promotion, Immediately Starts Talking Like a LinkedIn Post

LONDON – After years of quiet resentment and just enough productivity to avoid being fired, local employee Dan Matthews has finally been promoted to a managerial role—an achievement that, according to colleagues, has transformed him overnight into a human LinkedIn post.

“It’s like he’s been possessed by LinkedIn,” said long-time coworker Emily Carter. “This morning, I asked him if he wanted a coffee, and he said, ‘Let’s touch base on that offline.’ He used to just say ‘yeah, cheers.’”

In his first act as manager, Matthews sent out a 2,000-word email titled “Reflections on Leadership, Learnings from the Trenches” in which he compared his recent career advancement to “climbing Everest” and “leading a Roman legion into battle.” The email, which began with an inspirational Steve Jobs quote and ended with a completely unnecessary hashtag, was later found to contain no useful information.

“I used to like Dan,” said team member Josh Patel. “But today, he said he’s ‘laser-focused on leveraging our core competencies to drive impact.’ We work in an accounts payable department. What the hell does that mean?”

Meanwhile, his LinkedIn activity has skyrocketed. Where he once used the platform exclusively to ignore recruitment messages, he is now posting daily threads on “the importance of adaptability in an evolving business landscape.” One such post, which began with the phrase ‘Not your typical promotion story…’, detailed his “incredible journey” from Junior Accounts Payable Assistant to Senior Accounts Payable Assistant in just eight short years. It included a staged photo of him thoughtfully staring out of a window, an unrelated anecdote about a childhood struggle, and the sentence “If this inspires just one person, it’s worth it.”

“Honestly, I can’t look at LinkedIn anymore,” said Patel. “Yesterday he posted a stock image of two people shaking hands with the caption, ‘Partnerships are the fuel of progress.’ Who is he partnering with? The photocopier?”

Coworkers have also noticed a shift in Matthews’ physical behaviour. Formerly known for his relaxed, borderline apathetic attitude, he now enters every meeting room with the urgency of a man delivering a TED Talk.

“The other day he stood up during a Zoom call and started pacing back and forth like he was unveiling a new iPhone,” said Carter. “At one point, he paused, stared at the camera, and said, ‘We’re not just pushing numbers, guys. We’re telling a story.’ He then spent five minutes explaining what storytelling means, to a room full of accountants.”

Despite mounting concern, office insiders predict that Matthews will continue down this path, with upcoming behavioural milestones including:

• Ending every email with “Let’s disrupt this space together!”

• Taking a one-day management seminar and updating his bio to “Passionate about leadership and mentoring”

• Posting a “humble brag” about his promotion while thanking “everyone who believed in him”

At press time, Matthews was seen in the break room, staring wistfully into the distance while muttering, “At the end of the day, it’s all about mindset.”

The Price of Light

The sun costs six credits a minute. Most people can afford an hour or two each day, rationed in golden slices—just enough to keep their bones from aching, just enough to pretend. The wealthiest can bask for as long as they like, sprawled under its glow in the glass towers of the city centre. The poorest live in the permanent cold-shadow of the lower levels, where frost bites at their skin, and the streetlights flicker like dying embers.

I can afford twenty minutes a week. But I steal more.

The rooftops are high and dangerous, but if you climb fast enough, you can reach the edges of the paid-light zones, where the sensor fields falter. It’s only a few minutes before the enforcement drones sweep by, but in that time, the sun feels real, mine. I let it paint my skin, let its warmth seep into my bones, let my body remember what the world used to be.

That’s where I find the girl. She’s crouched at the edge of a rooftop, staring at the city with wide, unblinking eyes. She’s maybe twelve, rail-thin, wrapped in layers of threadbare fabric. I nearly leave her alone—there’s an unspoken rule among roof thieves—but something about her makes me pause. She isn’t just basking. She looks… terrified.

“You okay?” I ask.

She turns, eyes catching the light like a stray cat’s. “It’s real,” she whispers.

I frown. “What?”

“The sun.” She lifts a trembling hand toward the sky. “I thought it was a lie.”

I stare at her properly now, at the pallor of her skin, the way she flinches at the breeze, how her lips tremble in the warmth. And I understand.

She has never felt sunlight before.

There are rumours, of course—about the ones born underground. The ones so poor, so discarded, that they live their whole lives in the dark. But I’d never met one. Not until now.

I step closer. She doesn’t move, still staring at the sky with something like fear. “How did you get up here?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Someone left a door open.”

A mistake. An accident. And now she’s seen the truth.

The enforcement drones will come soon. The rooftop is a paid-light zone, and we don’t belong here. I should leave. But she’s still staring upward, as if she’s afraid the sun will vanish if she looks away.

“How long do we have?” she asks, voice shaking.

I check my stolen device. “Forty seconds.”

She nods. She doesn’t ask to run. She doesn’t ask to hide. She just kneels there, bathed in gold, as if memorising the feeling of light on her face.

When the sirens wail, I grab her hand.