I was sitting in Shippy's cramped little house in Banbury when the lights fizzled and the room went black. Somewhere in the walls, an electrical fault hissed and popped like a snake with bronchitis. I asked him what to do. Shippy, calm as a priest at the altar, simply said:

>Go outside. You'll find an electrician.

It was two in the morning. Banbury at that hour is not a place you expect to find anything except foxes and discarded kebab wrappers. Still, I obeyed. I stepped out into the street, and there he was. A man in hi-vis, tool bag slung over one shoulder.

He looked at me, nodded, and said: "Need a spark?" I stared. The odds were impossible. And then it struck me: he was the exact same weight as me. Same slope of belly, same huff of breath after walking five steps. Not thin, not muscled, obese, like me.

It couldn't be coincidence. Shippy had manifested him. Not just an electrician, but my electrician. A mirror in a fluorescent vest, conjured out of nothing but Banbury night air and Shippy's strange, quiet will. And in that moment, I knew Shippy wasn't just a man. He was a vessel for miracles. Shippy you're so fucking precious when you smile. <3