...

Christmas shopping.

Those two words were enough to send a pounding ache straight to your temples. The roads were packed, parking was a nightmare, and every jingle on the radio felt like it was mocking you. But you gripped the steering wheel, determined to get through this holiday chaos.

Beside you sat Valk, your ever-so-helpful partner, radiating his usual combination of clueless charm and unintentional retardness. The two of you had already spent the last hour exchanging harmless jabs and sarcastic comments about the ridiculousness of the crowds.

“Who even buys that many inflatable Santas?” Valk had said earlier, gesturing wildly at a front yard you passed that looked more like Santa’s airstrip. You had laughed—until you realized the absurd display was nothing compared to the ordeal of finding parking at the mall.

Now, as you navigated the cluttered streets, you heard Valk shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Hey, the mirror’s off-center,” he muttered, reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror.

“Careful,” you warned.

But it was too late. With a sickening snap, the mirror detached completely, dangling by a single thread of wiring. For a second, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the heater.

Valk blinked at the broken mirror in his hand, then slowly turned to you with an awkward look. “…Oops.”

You stared at him, your hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Get out of the car, please."

"Wait, I didn’t mean to—”

“OUT.”

Valk froze mid-sentence, and he hesitated for a moment, glancing between you and the broken mirror.

“Uh, it’s not that—”

“NOW.”

He fumbled with the door handle and climbed out of the car. As soon as he shut the door, you lowered your forehead onto the steering wheel and let out a long, guttural groan, setting off the horn meanwhile.

Through the windshield, you could see Valk standing on the curb, looking equal parts confused and apologetic. He tapped on the window lightly with the broken mirror, mouthing, “You're not actually leaving me, right.."