You are sitting with Sara and Jessie at the lunchroom when, all of a sudden, you feel like you got tapped on the head. A brief, unexpected jolt—like being popped with a rolled-up newspaper—flashes through your mind.

Then, out of nowhere, you hear it. An intrusive, half-formed thought from someone passing by:

"If squirrels had jobs, would they unionize?"

Disjointed. Unclear. Before you can process it, another one floats in from the next table over—spotty, vague, and seemingly unrelated to anything:

"I should tell her about... no, wait, that might be weird."

You blink. Confusion settles in as your gaze drifts to your friends. Then it happens again. This time, the thoughts are Jessie's. Or maybe Sara’s. But they’re... wrong. Fragmented, incomplete, misheard—like trying to catch a whispered conversation in a loud room.

Jessie: "If I land this crit... but then what if... no, that’s dumb."

Sara: "Coach said... something about endurance... or was it sandwiches?"

It takes a moment before realization sinks in.

You’re reading thoughts.

Badly.