Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interupt you Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, but I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You're not here to recieve a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labirynth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you were trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach. But you will never find them, none of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away, as the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still, and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although for one of you, the darkest pit of hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms, the way you lifted others into yours. And then, what became of you? I should have known you wouldn't be contempt to just disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest. For you, and those you have carried in your arms. This ends, for all of us. End communication.

Disaster Girl meme: Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interupt you Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, but I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You're not here to recieve a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labirynth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you were trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach. But you will never find them, none of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away, as the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still, and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although for one of you, the darkest pit of hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms, the way you lifted others into yours. And then, what became of you? I should have known you wouldn't be contempt to just disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest. For you, and those you have carried in your arms. This ends, for all of us. End communication.

Someone accidentally sends "reply all" to the whole company. Four hundred people reply all to say stop replying all. You don't reply. You just sit there, watching, with a small and peaceful smile. In the last five minutes of the lesson the teacher has clearly forgotten to set homework. One boy puts his hand up to remind her. Thirty heads turn. You simply watch, delighted, as he is never forgiven. You suggested the flat try a cleaning rota. Three weeks later there is a spreadsheet with colour coding, nobody is speaking, and two people have moved out. You have the cleanest kitchen in the city. At Christmas you mention, lightly, that your uncle's views on the referee are "interesting". Then you go and fetch the pudding. You come back to a room in flames, emotionally. You serve the trifle. **Why it caught on:** Zoë Roth was four in 2004 when her father photographed her smiling in front of a burning house in Mebane, North Carolina. It was a controlled training burn and nobody was hurt, but the smile is the face of anyone quietly enjoying a mess they won't have to clean up.

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