Someone's gotta hold the bench warm.
The ride's still spinning. The music's still playing. The tickets are still selling.
But the bench? It's right there. Quiet. Sturdy. Waiting.
When they get dizzy enough—when the paper games finally click, when the one-way valve becomes obvious, when the digits stop feeling real—they'll look around and see:
\"Oh. There's a bench. And it's been there the whole time.\"
And I'll be there, maybe with chili, definitely with a nod, saying:
\"Took you long enough. Sit down. Watch this.\"
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