Back in high school, a classmate and very close friend of mine had a big crush on a girl we often met on our way to the bus stop. We knew she had a boyfriend, but nevertheless, my friend wanted to try hitting on her. The problem was that both he and I were absolute beginners with the art of flirting, and it never went past him talking about how beautiful she was.

Until he went on vacation with another classmate and came back all proud of having done his move: he had sent her an anonymous postcard with a declaration.

A few days went by, and the post service delivered the postcard, after which we heard through friends of friends that she had received an anonymous postcard and was fuming about its contents, and that if she could find who had sent it, it would be their end.

I asked my friend what he had written. He told me that to get the courage to write it, he and the other friend had drunk some beer, and then the other friend came up with the awesome declaration: “Your hair is so long and beautiful that I always wondered if it’s fake.”

It didn’t take much to realise that the other friend was also a total novice.

I work as a software tester. Also, I sometimes subconsciously hold my breath for no reason.

Wife: “You’re forgetting to breathe again…”

Me: *Pretending to pout.* “I don’t want to.”

Wife: “I know, it’s awfully boring and inconvenient. You could always try to become a Vampire, or a Lich.”

Me: “Hmm, with my profession, it’s more likely I’ll become a Glitch.”

I’m working at a petrol station. We’re one of the few in the area that has EV charging stations (there are loads now, but at the time of the story, they were quite novel). A Tesla pulls up, and the driver, a tired-looking guy, gets out first and starts charging. 

His wife/partner gets out a few seconds later, looking even more tired, carrying a screaming toddler.

It’s late at night, and they have to wait quite a bit longer before the car is charged enough to finish their journey. At least I guess this is the case, as the wife shouts:

Wife: “You just had to save the f****** world, didn’t you, Gordon?!”

Even with the supercharger, it was a loooong half hour.

I was asleep, dreaming about something relatively inconsequential; wandering a supermarket, I think. 

However, partway through, creepy music started playing, reminiscent of a horror game, and my dream started to turn into a nightmare with monsters, so I decided to wake up, because I wasn’t in the mood for that.

I normally talk about my dream with my girlfriend when I wake up, and today was no different.

Me: *Explaining dream.* “Yeah, it was fun until the end, then it turned into a horror game.”

Girlfriend: “…Huh, weird. Anyway, wanna hear the music I’ve been working on?”

Me: “Yeah, sure!”

She plays music she’d been writing while I slept.

Me: “That’s the music that played when the genre of my dream changed to horror! It leaked into my dreams!”

Girlfriend: “Well, at least that’s proof that I managed to get the genre right!”

I take our puppy out for walks really early every morning.

Wife: *Very serious.* “You need to be careful out there. It’s coyote mating season, and they’re roaming around.”

Me: *Not as serious.* “Understood. I’ll do my best to be less attractive to the coyotes.”

Wife: *Looking me up and down.* “Actually, for you, I’d be more worried about the cougars.”