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Derek stood up. “It’s a coincidence. I’ll prove it.” He walked toward the door. Sam grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

“That’s… not funny,” Sam whispered.

10:47 PM.

“Dude,” Derek said, grinning — the same stupid, invincible grin from every bad short they’d ever made. “It’s dudefilms. We film stupid stuff. Nothing bad ever actually happens.”

The second car came from nowhere. Black. Fast. No headlights.