What Flick actually does.

Your inbox becomes a swipe deck: one email, one card, one decision. Archive it, mark it “no reply needed,” or have Flick draft a reply for you to approve. That’s the whole loop.

The deck only shrinks. There is no engagement debt here — the deck gets smaller, and the session ends. When you reach the bottom, Flick tells you to leave.

• No infinite scroll. The deck can never become an endless feed — that’s a promise our build actually enforces.
• No streaks. We will never add a streak, a leaderboard, or a badge that counts up.
• An honest ending. When Flick reaches the end of the deck, it will never claim it closed your inbox for you — it just tells you you’re done.

When a sender offers the machine exit Google forces on bulk senders — RFC 8058 one-click — Flick takes it for you, over an SSRF-guarded, server-derived path. Then it tells you what actually happened.

• One-click accepted. The sender had a real one-click header and its server accepted the request. Flick reports that wire result exactly — an accepted request is the cleanest exit there is, but it’s never dressed up as proof you were removed.
• Just a link. There was no machine exit — only a page — so Flick hands you the honest way out instead of pretending it unsubscribed you.
• The server refused. If the request fails, Flick says so; it never silently swallows the outcome.
• Inbox-wide sender nuke. Clear a whole sender across the inbox in one move — with a fail-closed undo, so an un-nuke that can’t be guaranteed is never claimed as done.

Clear the deck and Flick mints a terminus receipt ticket — a record of the session with wire-true numbers, drawn from what actually happened, never inflated for effect.

• A global receipt serial. Each receipt gets its own number from a single global counter — minted silently, whether or not you ever share it.
• Shareable receipt pages. A receipt can become a public /r page with its own preview card; the page and the card can never disagree, and neither can claim a number beyond its hard-coded bounds.
• Honest by default. The closest thing to a score is your own fastest pace so far — a personal, past-tense best. No streak, no leaderboard.

Most software fights to keep you. Flick is built the other way — the point is to get you out.

• The Goodbye button. A real “Close Flick” at the end of a session, with an honest fallback when there’s nothing left to do.
• The Refusal. Pull-to-refresh never deals you a fresh deck. It runs a real check for new mail and, when there’s none, shows you a single card that refuses — it will not manufacture more to do.
• The Never Contract. Thirteen numbered promises about what Flick will never do to your inbox — seven of them enforced by checks that fail our deploy. Read /never →
• The Unsubscribe Museum. Four playable recreations of the dark-pattern exits other apps use to trap you. Walk through the museum →

For the email that needs a real reply, Flick drafts it in your voice — you read it, tweak it, and send in a single tap. The draft is saved in your own mailbox; you send it. Flick never sends email on your behalf.

Reusing the exact framing from our footer: swiping, archiving and “no reply needed” are free forever — only AI-drafted replies are metered. It is the one and only thing that costs money.

Some of what we build is free for anyone, no account required.

• The Unsubscribe Checker. Paste an email’s raw headers and see whether its unsubscribe is a true one-click, a link to a page, a mailto:, or nothing at all. No signup, and your paste never leaves your browser.
• The Exit Gap Index. We’re collecting the gap between the exit Google forces senders to give robots and the maze they give you. It’s fail-closed: no sender is graded until it clears the bar — ungraded, not guessed, and no grade is published before it’s earned.
• The triage benchmark. Time your own email triage — swipe versus click — and see the difference for yourself.

We don’t store your email bodies, sell your data, or train any model on your mail. That’s the same line that’s in our footer on every page — the privacy commitments here are the ones we already make everywhere else.