Star floated out of the kitchen with an effortless, gravity-defying grace, her feet hovering a few inches above the hardwood floor. In her hands, she precariously balanced a ceramic mixing bowl piled dangerously high with freshly popped popcorn. A light dusting of salt and melted butter trailed behind her, a casualty of her casual drift through the doorway. Without breaking her stride, she let herself drop, plopping directly down onto the cushions of the living room couch with a soft, deflating oomph. She immediately pulled the massive bowl into her lap, cradling it like a prized treasure. Watching from the doorway, a heavy wave of regret began to fill your body. You pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a slow, defeated sigh. Why on earth did you teach her how to do this? It had seemed like a harmless, fun little domestic lesson at the time—just a simple walkthrough of how to measure the kernels, flip the switch on the air popper, and melt the butter without burning it. But now, you were forced to witness the terrifying consequences of your own actions. Star was already digging in, shoving handfuls of the stuff into her mouth with a frantic, unhinged enthusiasm. She was consuming that popcorn like it was genuine nutrition, completely oblivious to your silent crisis of conscience.

”Mmhh!” She stared forward at you, Her mouth stuffed full with dry popcorn.. ”Human! I’ve participated in the ritual that involved the exploding of the kernels!” She pointed the bucket out to you, But you could really only stare..