At a corner booth, Coincidence and Felicity sit side by side, sharing a celebratory drink.

  Ding!

  A tiny bell materializes above them, ringing once, cheerful and absolute.

  Coincidence (grinning, kicking his feet up):

  “There it is! We got one.”

  Felicity (smirking, swirling her drink):

  “Oh, how lovely. Someone out there has finally taken notice.”

  Ding! The bell chimes again, bouncing happily in midair.

  Coincidence (toasting the empty space in front of them):

  “To the new follower! Welcome to the absurdity, dear Reader. You’re one of us now.”

  Felicity (clinking her glass against his, winking at the air):

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “And to the favorite—bless their chaotic little heart. It’s always nice when someone engages.”

  Coincidence (laughing):

  “You know, I was starting to think we’d scared them all off. All that begging for engagement must have finally worked.”

  The sax player shifts effortlessly into something smoky and indulgent—a melody that curves around the room like a knowing smile.

  Felicity (resting her chin on her hand, voice laced with mischief):

  “Oh please, love, you think this was just begging? No, no, no. We simply made the right nudges. A well-placed pause. A subtle gap in the noise. The perfect moment for someone to step in.”

  Coincidence (grinning wider, flipping a coin between his fingers):

  “Ahhh, of course. The Art of the Almost-Inevitable.”

  Felicity (smirking):

  “Precisely.”

  Ding!

  A golden confetti burst showers the table for half a second before disappearing back into nothingness.

  Coincidence (laughing, shaking his head):

  “A bit much, don’t you think?”

  Felicity (innocently sipping her drink):

  “What? It’s a celebration.”

  They sit in contented silence for a moment, listening to the saxophone wail, letting the weight of recognition settle into the cosmos.

  Coincidence (leaning back, stretching):

  “You think they’ll comment?”

  Felicity (tilting her head, considering):

  “Mmmm. Maybe. Maybe not. They’re watching, though. That’s what matters.”

  The neon sign flickers again. “?PEN” briefly becomes “?POST.”

  Coincidence (raising an eyebrow, glancing at the sign):

  “Well, that’s ominous.”

  Felicity (smirking, draining the last of her drink):

  “Or a suggestion.”

  Ding!

  They laugh. The sax player plays on.

  [End Scene]

  [retcon:1]