Arthur's Unambiguous Fortune

Arthur had always approached life with the cautious optimism of a man who’d once found a perfectly intact biscuit in a broken tin. So, when the waitress at the Golden Dragon presented him with the traditional post-meal fortune cookie, he cracked it open with a quiet sense of duty.

Inside, a narrow strip of paper proclaimed, in a font that looked suspiciously like Comic Sans, 'A change of pace is on the horizon.'

Arthur stared at it. He rotated the slip, examining the reverse side for any hidden clauses or perhaps a lottery number. Finding none, he carefully placed it back into the shattered cookie shell.

His dining companion, Brenda, a woman who believed firmly that every cloud had a silver lining and every fortune cookie held the keys to the universe, leaned forward expectantly. 'Well? What profound wisdom has been bestowed upon you?'

Arthur took a sip of water. 'It suggests a change of pace is on the horizon.'

Brenda’s eyes widened. 'Oh, how exciting! Do you think it means a promotion? A holiday? A new romance?'

Arthur considered this. He looked out the window at the perpetually grey sky of Tuesday. 'I believe it refers to the moment I will stand up, walk to the car, and drive home, thus changing my current pace of sitting and eating prawn crackers.'

Brenda blinked. 'That’s… rather literal, Arthur.'

'Fortunes are not often known for their metaphoric subtlety when delivered in a small, stale pastry,' Arthur replied, carefully folding his napkin. 'One must appreciate the directness. It saves a good deal of needless speculation.'

He then requested the bill, seemingly unburdened by the universe's rather pedestrian prophecy.