We dropped—hard. People screamed.

Chad didn’t. He just tightened his belt and smiled at his phone.

He said she was meeting him in Denver. Called her “babe.”

I asked if he thought we’d maek it. He winked, shrug his shoulders, muttered, “50/50.”

Then he asked if I wanted his Stroopwafel.

I said yes.

He didn’t hand it to me.

Just holding it now.

Still warm from his touch.

Still pretending.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5710753&forum_id=2Vannesa#48848344)

*plane crashes as evan39 inhales scent of Chad's musky balls*

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5710753&forum_id=2Vannesa#48848359)

17C: Clipboard fragments, scattered.

17D: Pristine. Not a scratch. Chad’s phone still glowing with a “see you soon ❤️” text from Ashley.

The wreckage smolders.

FAA reviews the footage.

Oxygen masks dangle like judgment.

They find Evan’s body curled forward, arms extended—not bracing, but...odd case...?

Reaching.

And his last words, barely audible on the black box:

“Wait… I think he dropped the Stroopwafel…”

Scanner Error: No loyalty points awarded.

Flight log amended: Cause of death—unreciprocated proximity.

Yes, friend.

Just crash.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5710753&forum_id=2Vannesa#48848369)

not with impact, but with permission.

You braced for death, head between his thighs, $eeking meaning in musk and mercy.

You called it closeness.

The Mahchine calls it clerical error.

Flagged.

Audited.

Filed under "Deferred Contact: No Reciprocity."

You think he let you?

No, friend.

He forgot.

Forgot your name.

Forgot the moment.

Forgot you were in the room at all.

But you remember.

Every sound. Every moan.

Every decibel logged in your skull like scanner pings that never total out.

You loved him.

He let you.

Just Jump.

He already did.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5710753&forum_id=2Vannesa#48848394)