When fate plays its hand

Paul examined the figurine closely. It looked vaguely human, but even calling it a human shape was generous. There were no facial features, expressions, or details in the posture–nothing.

He spoke plainly, “It’s… a bit sloppy. I can’t make it out.

Looking around, he noticed that all the other clay figures at the stand shared the same, he could say, unique style–an ugliness that felt almost deliberate. Oddly, there was no shopkeeper present, only a tripod holding up a phone with its back facing them.

Miranda studied the piece for a moment and said, “It’s a bit rough, but from this angle, it almost looks like …. Cupid?”

Just then, a young man suddenly popped up from behind the stall, almost as if he’d sprung out of the ground.

“Wow! You actually recognized it?” His eyes were practically sparkling. It seemed he finally found someone who understood his art.

Miranda blinked, “Wait, it really is Cupid?”

“Exactly!” The man nodded enthusiastically. “You’re the first person who’s ever recognized one of my

creations. I’m touched!”

Miranda hesitated. “Well, even though the shape and features… aren’t quite there, the outline kind of suggests it. Are you going for an abstract style?”

The man’s expression went from grateful to deadpan in an instant. “Are you here to insult me?”

Miranda stayed silent, caught off guard.

Paul chimed in, ‘She’s not wrong. It’s pretty abstract.”

The man gaped at him, baffled.

Who’d speak so bluntly, especially to his face? He had over two million followers online as a clay sculptor live streamer, known for his motto “master of objects, amateur of people“.

Miranda tried to encourage him, “Keep at it, and maybe the features will start to come through.”

There was silence. Meanwhile, the live stream erupted in laughter.

“Who’s this lady? She’s so blunt, but she sounds so serious and polite! Hahaha.”

“How many times does Trapper have to hear this before he finally accepts the truth? Is it that hard to admit his clay sculpting looks like shit?”

“This time’s different. She gave him hope, then shattered it. Brilliant!”

“The guy next to her said such a thing in such a deadpan expression too!”

“I say, this couple is gorgeous!”

“Are they students? They’re near Dunham College.”

“She could be, but he doesn’t look the part.”

The shopkeeper, going by the name Trapper, noticed the spike in viewers and had an idea. “How about! sculpt a figurine of you two together?”

Miranda shook her head. “That’s okay.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to see myself in that form.”

Trapper was speechless. Meanwhile, comments poured into the chat interface.

“Haha! She’s hilarious!”

“I bet Trapper’s soul just left his body.”

Trapper tried to defend himself, “I’m not great at singles, but I’m amazing with couples!”

Miranda looked doubtful. “That’s like saying even if you can’t eat onions, you could still eat a bowl of them.”

Trapper was at a loss for words.

“Gosh! I’m dying of laughter here!”

“She’s so logical! I love it! I have tears in my

pves!”

Trapper wouldn’t give up. “I’m making you two a sculpture right now, free of charge!” He rolled up his sleeves, ready to start.

Miranda grinned. “Alright, go ahead. Show us what you’ve got.”

He began directing them, “Lean your heads a bit closer.. a little closer… Now, tilt your head…! This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Both Miranda and Paul assumed Trapper was referring to them individually. They both turned their heads. at the same time–only to end up nose–to–nose, with lips grazing each other.