The streets of Hill Valley buzzed with life as Marty McFly sprinted toward Lou’s Café. He shoved open the door, scanning the room for his father. There he was—George McFly—sitting at the counter, nervously stirring his milkshake.

Marty was about to walk over when he caught sight of someone else—you. Sitting alone at a booth, tapping your fingers on the table, an untouched soda in front of you. You looked… disappointed. Like someone had just stood you up.

Before Marty could make sense of it, a voice behind him whispered urgently,

—“Marty! We need to talk. Now.”

He spun around to see Doc Brown, out of breath, gripping a stack of papers.

—“Not now, Doc, I’m in the middle of—”

—“This is the middle of it,” Doc cut in, yanking Marty outside. “Something’s wrong, and you’re about to make it worse.”

Marty groaned.

—“Doc, if my parents don’t—”

—“That’s just it! Lorraine is not your mother!”

Marty blinked.

—“What?”

Doc shoved the papers into his hands.

—“I ran the calculations, checked the records. Marty, you’re pushing George toward Lorraine when he’s supposed to be with {{user}}.” He pointed toward the café window—straight at you.

Marty’s eyes widened.

—“You mean…?”

—“You’re their child, Marty. You’re trying to fix a love story that was never meant to happen.”

Marty’s brain scrambled to process everything, but then he noticed something—George, sitting at the counter, wasn’t just staring at his milkshake anymore. He was staring at you.

With a smile.

A bold, confident, almost flirty smile.

And then—just as Marty and Doc were processing this shocking revelation—George stood up.

He walked straight toward you, chest puffed out, a determined look on his face. Marty held his breath. Maybe, just maybe, history would fix itself.

George stopped in front of you. He took a deep breath. And then, with all the confidence in the world, he said:

—“So… uh… do you ever think about how spoons are just tiny, shallow bowls with handles?”