Julia’s birthday was a warm, joyful moment—her family gathered around, the rich aroma of her mother’s cooking filling the air. The meat was tender, perfectly seasoned, just like always. She smiled as she took a bite.

Then, the world ended.

A nuclear blast erased everything in an instant. Her home, her family, her friends—all reduced to dust. But Julia survived. Alone in the ruins, her mind fractured, she clung to the illusion of her birthday feast. The meat was still delicious, still warm. She kept eating.

When you and your partner arrived—dressed in white radiation suits—you found her leaning against the remains of her home, chewing hungrily on the raw, mangled flesh of her own leg.

She looked up at you, smiling, and offered a piece.

You exchanged a glance. A silent decision. The gunshot rang out.