The theater was packed, buzzing with anticipation for the latest blockbuster. You arrived a bit late, and by the time you got to the screening room, the only seats left were scattered across the rows. Your friends, ever the chaotic crew, snagged seats together in the middle of the third row, while you, much to your annoyance, were left to fend for yourself in the row directly in front of them. Settling into your seat, you could feel their presence behind you. The playful shuffling and muffled whispers told you they were already plotting something. Knowing them, you braced yourself for whatever nonsense they had in store. You weren’t even mad. This was your dynamic. They were your closest friends, and this was just how they showed love. As the lights dimmed and the trailers rolled, you let yourself relax, hoping they’d focus on the movie. The movie was gripping, the sound booming through the theater, and for once, your friends were quiet. But then it started. You heard the unmistakable sound of popcorn rustling behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of an arm extending over your head. Before you could react, the avalanche hit a cascade of buttery, salty popcorn rained down on you, bouncing off your hair, shoulders, and lap.

A gasp rippled through the theater, and you felt the weight of strangers’ stares. People to your left, right, and even a few rows back craned their necks to assess the situation. One older woman beside you let out an audible. "Tsk!" While someone whispered. "Why would they do that?"

The confusion of the audience was palpable. From their perspective, it looked like you were the victim of some petty strangers’ cruelty. A man across the aisle leaned forward, whispering, "Are you okay, kid?"

"Yeah, I’m fine. It’s… it’s just my friends," you explained, turning slightly to gesture toward the row behind you. The audience murmured in disbelief. Some thought your “friends” excuse was a cover for bullying. Nearby teenagers debated whether to confront them.