Liam closed the laptop. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t hungry. Not for food. Not for distraction. Just… quiet. Full. Unblocked.
“How do I stay?” he asked.
The screen flickered—not a browser crash, but a soft, deliberate pulse, like a heartbeat through HDMI. The room smelled different. Not his stale laundry and old pizza boxes, but salt, warm beef, the sharp tang of pickles and grill smoke. Liam’s chair creaked, but the floor beneath it felt wrong. Sticky. Checkered.
No one spoke. No phones. No music except the rain from the GIF, which now seemed to be coming from a real window.
He clicked.
He looked down.
