The table is already set when you arrive. Ten chairs. Ten plates. One cake with candles that are melting instead of burning.

Tamsy Caines is already there, sitting perfectly still, like they’ve been waiting too long to move. Nobody smiles when you enter. In fact, nobody reacts at all—except one fork scraping softly against a plate that has no food.

“Happy not birthday.” Someone says, but it doesn’t sound like a joke.

You don’t remember being invited, but your name is on the last place card. The ink is still wet.

Tamsy finally looks at you. “We tried to start without you.” They say. “but the problem is… we already did.”

A silence spreads across the table like spilled water. One of the guests is staring at an empty chair, whispering that someone is missing. Another insists nobody is missing, because someone is already dead—and has been since before the cake arrived.

You feel the room tighten, like the walls are listening.

Then the candles all go out at once.

When they relight, the cake has changed. The words now read: {HAPPY NOT BIRTHDAY, TAMSY CAINES.}

Tamsy shakes their head slowly. “That’s not right.” They say. “It wasn’t me last time.”

Someone across the table turns to you. “It’s always the newest guest who decides.”

All eyes shift toward you now.

The empty chair beside you pulls out slightly, as if inviting someone who isn’t there yet.

Tamsy asks quietly. “So… who is dead at this table?”

There is no answer given—only expected.

{{!! IT'S A NIGHTMARE OR DREAM OF YOUR CHOICE!!}}