The Outset 

I was not prepared for the humidity to slap and smother every inch of my body like an invisible mask the moment I stepped out of the safety of the terminal. 

After texting the entire group that I was on the ground, it only took ten minutes to find Harley Campbell by baggage claim. His height helped.

Hearing that someone is six and a half feet, or just slightly under two meters, is one thing. Seeing them in the flesh is something else.

His hair appeared a little lighter in person than in his videos, while still darker than dirty blond. Maybe. I wasn't an expert on hair.

He turned around when I called his name. Before I could say anything else, he easily guessed, "Ark?" 

It felt both right and disconcerting to hear my online handle said by someone I'd just physically met, even though it was also my initials. I nodded. "Yeah. Good flight?"

After helping him wrestle two large bags off the carousel, Harley gave a morbid chuckle. "Flights. They had to adjust me for a layover in Los Angeles and then Minneapolis. I considered a bus but it would've taken as long. Thirty hours, five with any sleep." He turned away and coughed into the long-sleeve of his dark-green top. 

I offered awkward, guilty sympathies since my flight was an on-time, straight-shot from Los Angeles instead of Sydney. Only after he'd caught his breath did he ask if I preferred Ark or Aaron. I told him I didn't mind either way. 

I'd only been in a few airport terminals in my life but I liked this one's bright, open style with tall, white columns. The air conditioner was stronger near the shopping strip but still not strong enough. Harley fluttered his top as we searched for Noah.

On group chat, he'd said he'd be at a Starbucks. Each of the three concourses had one and he wasn't answering texts or calls about whether he was on A, B, or C. 

"You pick, Aaron", Harley urged me. 

Giving him a glance, I warned, "I just have dumb luck, not useful luck." Although I'd gotten a drop of a game's ultimate sword with a one-in-20000 chance on my second try. And I always had great rolls in Mario Party...

Oh, alright. Fine...

"C. Let's try C." I gestured without thinking. 

Sure enough, my dumb luck struck again as we soon spotted Noah sipping an iced coffee. 

"You found me! And made it! I am so ready to skedaddle."

At first, it looked like Noah might tackle us both with a hug but his arm was preoccupied with a drink and his feet were tangled up in his bags. Instead, we each got a quick touch on the shoulder. 

He was ever-so-slightly taller than me, with a bloom of what was close-enough to dirty-blond hair that I could be satisfied in calling it that without question. His black, round frames were apex hipster. He looked like his merch, only human, instead of a smiling, half-peeled banana wearing his caricature. 

Noah was high-energy and take-charge. We both stood there as he regaled us of blasting off from the land of cows and Packers after a long delay, completing a funny indie game on his Switch during the flight and then realizing, aghast, that his phone battery was on the "precipice of oblivion". 

After making sure we didn't want anything from the Starbucks (Owen had promised a feast and bottled water when he picked us up), Noah led the way to the front.

I almost retreated through the doors. Even under a cavernous metal canopy, the hot, shrieking breath of cars and trucks seeded the sticky air with a swooning, choking metallic taste. Like having your face crushed by a steamy, iron vice.

"Ope, sure hot enough to melt out here. We had a day or two like this last year. Had to stay in anyway and pray the cooler survives." Noah fanned some paper in his face and soon appeared to realize he was just burying himself in more hot, sweaty air. Touching his cold coffee to his neck was all that helped. As a startled afterthought, he doubled-checked that we were alright.

I figure I could survive a little but Harley just clenched a grim expression. Owen was just a few minutes away but it felt like an eternity before his silver SUV squeaked to a stop beside the curb.

He looked out of breath and deeply-apologized for the delay. Each of us got a big, greeting fist bump. It took all his willpower not to hug us. "Y'all have a good trip? Ready to be welcomed by the land of music and the best cuisine you've ever seen?" His face spread into a wide, unrestrained grin as he squeezed all our bags in the trunk. Noah eagerly answered in the affirmative while Harley and I quietly nodded.

I'd slipped into the backseat with Harley before I'd considered the A/C would be able to reach. Turned out it was fine, as a bracing, arctic blast hit me like a full-body ice cream headache, which mellowed to polar bliss as soon as Owen started the engine.

He also made sure Noah passed us a pair of slushy, perspiring water bottles. I drank till I hurt as Owen maneuvered delicately around traffic and explained, "Ben, Sam, Amanda, and Willow are already at the Commissary, best BBQ in your life. Even if you don't go nowhere else, best-doggun food ever."

As Owen listed his favorite items, I slowly sipped from my icy bottle and tilted my head to watch the shadow-swarmed car rental places retreat from the harsh lines of light. I squinted but it wasn't enough to prepare me as the shade fell away to reveal a blinding sea of a thousand, scalding points of fire from the reflections of cars across the immense, long-term parking.

Blinking the after-images away, Noah led storytime about our treks getting here. He had a hiccup with his checked bags. Harley came next with his odyssey across the Earth on limited sleep. I just told them things were fine as I watched the blinding metal give way to an army of trees.

Here, they probably really did have to be fought and culled from overwhelming civilization. Back home, they had to be nursed to health to have a fighting chance at survival.

I flinched at my own, mental analogy. It had been quite a series of months. We planned to meet up in person last year but circumstances made it impossible. At least we had a favorable pick of dates with the state of air travel. 

Owen eagerly recommended the late summer, at the cusp of fall, since the area, allegedly, tended to be milder than the peak of summer and also without violent storms. I never wanted to meet a Tennessee summer at full strength.

When he merged onto the highway, Owen started his phone's music player and landed on Modest Mouse. I recalled many a night when he added eclectic suggestions to our shared playlist. And he always had fair use ideas for the endslates of my videos.

I leaned back towards the center of the seat. No reason to hide. These were my people, my friends. My fellow YouTubers. And we'd already made hundreds of videos together before ever getting the chance to meet.

I'd personally done a horror co-op game with Harley. It was more of an MST3K affair than anything actually scary. We did a group react to last year's first major Nintendo Direct but I barely did more than laugh and cheer along with everyone else. 

Owen designed some graphics for me on commission and we'd played some competitive Tetris for a video. I used to hang out with Noah on a fan website when he did more reviews. I was a rotating member of his "DOOMtroop" Prop Hunt team. And then the others.

Ben and I both made nerd lore videos, so we had a lot of collaborations. Amanda helped out with background art when she and Ben were still together. When they broke up, it felt weird. The two of them were always frank and cordial but I could still feel like I might slice through a field of invisible, broken glass if I moved towards either of them too quickly.

If only I could be totally at ease with Sam. I've made the most videos with him and we have our never-ending fountain of gaming in-jokes about demon lamps, the Secret Society of Potted Plants, and "Carlos Solrac". I smile whenever I see him on Facetime, Skype, or whatever but I still feel a bitter shard because of my squandered crush on his girlfriend, Willow.

We first met on a Terranigma fan forum ages ago. Her username was LadyFyda but she later added 95, for when the game was released. By my pure, dumb luck, I had the username Ark as part of ArkCanon and she private messaged me out of the blue.

It was so easy to talk to her, just roll from one random subject to the other. And it felt like she anticipated my words. I'd say something and she'd immediately follow it up like we shared a brain. 

Asking her out crossed my mind within a week but it felt wrong, like trying to take my twin sister on a date. We did a DnD campaign online where we were married and it was the happiest time of my life. I had the opportune moment, I had a shower of them. But I didn't take them.

Then, DarkShrineofHam or Sam, asked her out. He was a cool guy. He is a cool guy. But I wanted to burn his name in effigy, I imagined all sorts of dark things happening to him, no matter how much I personally wished them both well. Of course, one late night after several games were recorded and a little bit of alcohol, Willow wondered why I never asked her out. 

I only had verbal shrugs to offer, along with bullcrap that she felt more like a sister. She was kind, as always. And that was that. I couldn't be bothered to say anything or go to her place, just one damn state over. I drained what was left of my icy water, so it would hurt again.

It was a twenty-minute drive to "old Germantown". The streets appeared master-planned, but not ambitiously-so, like something up around San Jose or down around Irvine. Instead, it all just felt intoxicatingly-wholesome, with parks everywhere and calm, two-lane roads.

As we pulled into the narrow driveway, Noah repeated the slogan on the building, "So good yu'll slap your momma!" We had to park in the back but at least there was room. 

Inside, it was busy but not packed. The walls had a wooden-cabin look covered with cartoon pigs, framed old photos, and sports memorabilia. Looking away from the assortment of desserts at the front, I soon found our group. 

Sam and Willow were right next to each other in the corner and laughing about something. Ben and Amanda were on opposite ends with their phones out. I was gonna just grab the spot across from Amanda when Willow popped up and waved for me to come over. 

Just reacting, I put my arms around her in a weird hug, like I was trying to gingerly-embrace a cactus. "Great to see you", was all I could get out. She was amazing in-person and smelled like a swarm of flowers with all sorts of fancy names and delicate aromas. Her wrist and forearms were covered in vivid natural and Gaelic tattoos which looked sharper than in her videos and Instagram pics. Her nails were a silvery-pink and her dense hair hung past her shoulders in a velvety, deep teddy-bear brown. 

Her friendly, hazel eyes looked out from glasses much like Noah's classic-black, but thinner frames. She was so soft. So perfect. She didn't even look flustered from the weather in her white, vine-lined sky-blue top which barely-covered her slim stomach and snug jean shorts.

"It's you! Oh my gosh, this is so cool!"

I dumbly nodded and tried to keep my eyeline away from the prominent curve of her boobs. I'd studied her photos plenty. There was nothing new to see, I told myself. Just keep to her eyes. 

Sweat cascaded down my back, drenching my plain-blue shirt, and flooding my crack. Sam grabbed my hand in a manly flex and recited some adventurer quote from a game we did once. It took me a bit to catch up and fumble after him with the rest of the words. He had a natural, subtle tan, a face which looked surprisingly-soft for a man, and a slight rash along his neck where shaving always hurt him. His lips were the fullest of any in our group and his eyebrows had the same slight checkmark to them as Willow's. His hair was also like hers but as though you'd chopped off a mop of her hair and strung it awkwardly across his head. Like always, he wore his dead father's dog-tags around his neck with a heart engraved on the side.

Taking a "selfie" with Sam and Willow on either side made my bladder quiver. The table already had appetizers, including an enormous cheese plate with thick sausages and nachos covered in BBQ meats. I wound up in the corner, sitting in the chair Willow had been using. Harley settled in across from me with Ben, Noah, and Owen filling out the row. Amanda leaned and waved to greet me.

It might sound harsh to say I felt nothing for her but that was a relief. She was stout but not fat. Her face seemed to scowl when she was relaxed. Her voice was sharp and terse and her gaze looked angry when she was focused. She wore an Extra Life charity blouse and loose, puffy pants. Her hair started at a dirty blond at the top before brightening to a radiant, sunny blond past her shoulders.

Ben gave me a head bob and a "hello" as he put away his phone. His head looked weird without his lemon-toned beanie covering his stark-yellow hair. It did still sit in a tight, short dome around his head, like a pixie-cut punk rocker with a face like a young Fred Armisen (or so claimed his comment section on every single video he uploaded). 

He liked to edit stories down to their essentials and give you the "flat facts", whereas I tended to get lost in the little details of world-building. Collaborating, we fought against each other's worst natures and, I thought, made some pretty good stuff. 

When our server came, I noticed Willow ordered the catfish while Sam went for the pulled pork sandwich. I decided to try the beef brisket on Owen's recommendation. The rest of the orders just whizzed by my head like the music playing in the rafters.

Eight people in one place was way outside my social spectrum to process. It seemed similar for others too, as they branched off into little segments of conversation. Big, warm, and jolly Owen checked in with everyone to make sure they were having a good time and didn't need anything. Amanda almost accidentally ordered sweet tea but Owen made sure she had something that wasn't swimming in sugar. 

I listened to the tracks of conversation. No one talked shop about videos or YouTube. We barely even talked about games. We chatted instead about the trip, about the area, and about little mishaps of travel. And Amanda had her share to vent about traveling from Toronto, which Ben echoed. All this time later and it still seemed like flights were being impacted.

As she surrounded a pickle in sharp cheddar, Willow asked me how I was doing. I defaulted to saying that my life was fine, no problems. But I soon recognized that wasn't enough for her. I mentioned the humidity, for which Owen unnecessarily-apologized.

If we got closer to Halloween then it was supposed to be milder but this was the only time of year that worked for all eight of us. Four days of fun, content recording, and just being together. I would've signed on for a week, especially with Willow around, but Sam had to balance other work.

She still pressed me, "You sure?" 

All I could offer was a quick, half-breath with, "Yeah", before getting up to use the restroom. I felt relief that it wasn't as rustic as the rest of the interior suggested. 

It felt awful to even look at my own face in the mirror. The sandy-brown color of my hair wasn't bad. But there was the decaying, thin fringe around my head with a brush-like tuft to give the frail illusion of fuller hair. Rosacea by my cheekbones. A hissing, blob-like mass of a nose with beady nostrils. A stringy beard that always settled on my neck and ate its way over my spill of fat. 

The best thing in the last week was a little old lady, three times my age, who told me to smile more. My only saving grace might be my voice. Made for radio, face-free LPs, and lore dissections.

I'd lost weight too, something I was at least faintly-proud with how much I had to spend inside for editing and recording. My core audience on YouTube wasn't far from that little old lady. At least that made me as advertiser-friendly as a late-night comedy routine. 

Everyone else looked amazing though. Noah, like he stepped out of a lab which had perfected the asexual mitosis of Tyler Oakley's best genes. Sam, a swarthy, radiant presence that could spill out of a half-worn satin bathrobe while he brushed off any trace of being upset or serious. Harley, a website-verified heart-throb who actually got interviewed by some girly teen Australian magazine which kept trying to ask him about the implications of his hand and foot sizes. Ben had a life long ago as a skater/model. Enough said. But Owen...

He was a big guy. Bigger than me with a jolly belly, shaped goatee, and well-groomed neck-roll. But he had theater presence, a big drama guy. Major LARPer who wore his fake armor like it might actually save his life. He gave speeches up there with Henry the 5th. He could be a man half his stature or looming over a Conan-level barbarian and project the same presence. 

The fact I could even relax around Amanda was a quiet miracle. And Willow. I felt like a noxious pollution in her presence, a tiny, bulbous ogre of a gnat to be swatted away and forgotten. 

My bowels offered me no relief, just inquiring squeaks and roiling burbles as I tried not to lean too hard on my legs.

Exiting the restroom without anything done, I dodged around someone waiting on the facilities with all the self-preservation instinct of a listless insect already accepting the Coming of the Shoe. I'd severed myself from the outside world with my restroom trek. I spied on a table of seven happy people chatting cordially about the food, an inevitable long bath, the weather, something they wanted to sketch, something on the wall, and breathless hopes for an upcoming Nintendo title. 

It was impossible to escape out the fire exit or run back to my blackout-curtained, cozy recording studio where my friends online were at a safe and comfortable scale of encoded video and far away sounds.

"AARON! Welcome back! You gotta try this!" Of course, it was Willow. I sheepishly concocted some story about the chain on the flusher falling down and I needed to fix it, to explain my delay. Sympathetic sounds I didn't deserve surrounded me as I squeezed myself back into my corner.

Willow soon fed me a deviled egg excessively-slathered in some thick sauce. It wasn't too spicy but the seasoning was strong and made a scenic trip around my sinuses. While like a chipmunk with some food still tucked in its cheek, she did her best to explain it was an experiment she wanted to try on me too.

I smiled without having to force my lips to rise. It felt like a weak smile but it was a true one. It reminded me of a little anecdote from a Billy Hatcher game we'd both played. Before long, Noah was making frantic, convincing chicken noises and we all laughed together. 

It was hard to remember what game or meme was being referenced minutes later but it felt like when we hung around in Discord voice chat after a recording session for this or that and we just shot the breeze. 

I was still afraid, I still felt like shit, and my mind was still a mass of darkness but I could distract myself from that a little bit.

It wasn't till the spicy meats, sausages, slaw, and fries were settling into our stomachs that Owen started to lay out his plans for the long weekend. Art stream on Twitch with a touch of Pictionary, Telestrations, and game prompts. In-person party games. Smash and Mario Party. A few funny zombie titles to whet Harley's whistle. And, what he attempted to call the "peace day rowsistance" before Ben gripped his forehead in mock-frustration. But it was the BIG thing. 

Hot sauce...

I glanced down at my plate and felt the subdued but rising gurgles in my gut. He explained, "In northern Memphis, there's a Wiccan...New Age...crystal stuff shop and they have some all-natural things. I wanted to get a Celtic medallion made as a decoration and I see this row of local hot sauces. Some are your usual tourist trap flavors like blueberry habanero cardamon or manga chili waha wera but this one I found was like a big ol' wine bottle with a simple cut-out of a flame lady on the side. The name?...Mana Burn."

He pulled out his phone and passed around the photos he took of it. The label looked Asian with some Korean and kanji here and there. The translated portion on a white label talked about it being medicinal with humors and shamanic tradition and blah blah. Only 69 calories per serving, so I was pretty much legally-obligated to point it out and say, "Nice." Same with everyone else.

It had natural peppers and spices like you would expect, nothing too crazy but some herbs and plants were ones I'd never heard of. The label said it was for those who wanted an 'experience' without digestive pain. Sounded pretty tame.

Owen's idea was to have it as a penalty for multiplayer. He noted, "If it's too weak, I can cut it with something stronger from my pantry. This way, no one gets sick. We can figure it out. But I haven't tried it yet. Might ruin the surprise. But real excited to try it."

Harley scrunched his face at the label and read through carefully. He'd been timid with his chicken plate. He had irritable bowel, if I recalled correctly. He'd told me that it had some trigger ingredients but, after skimming the list a few times, he shrugged and announced, "No worries. I'm game to try it."

Noah joked about downing the bottle and growing flames himself. Ben noted that the wet on his ribs seemed spicier. Willow notified me, with a smile, that it didn't have any jalapenos, which often caused me problems, despite the fact I could tolerate ghost peppers and worse with ease. I'd checked that first but I appreciated her concern. Sam waxed about a "nopal"-based sauce that he liked on chicken. Food soon became the dominant topic of discussion, despite the fact we were all still stuffing our faces. Owen had an extensive list of places to eat for the whole get-together.

As things wound down and I had only my unremarkable baked beans remaining, I massaged meat out of my gums with a toothpick and my tongue and asked Willow, "You still want to do that Pony Adventure collab?"

The moment I said those words, I wanted to tortoise my way into the darkness inside and never see or hear her reaction. But I kept the facade of a dumb smile. Sam clapped his hands and proclaimed, "OH MAN! YES!"

Willow's devious expression told me enough. She remembered. Not only that but she had brought colorful, costume jewelry for her own penalty/prize plotting. Naturally, she had the game downloaded to her laptop as well and only required the use of some of Owen's recording equipment to make it all a reality. We had pitched the idea of playing and reviewing it many years ago, back before Sam. I did my best to look embarrassed but accepting.

The bill with gratuity and tax really reminded me of home. Just over $250 for everyone. I chipped in more than the 1/8th average and let Owen figure it out. The display at the counter showed off a variety of cakes, pies, and puddings but I only had eyes for the lemon ice box pie. I'd never had it before but it brought back enough memories of childhood and lemon meringue to leave me breathing frost across the glass. It was also nice to be right next to something cold.

Going outside immediately crushed the chill, like a damp sock filled with rocks. Willow bent forward and puffed, "What I'd give for just dry heat...haha. But it's still like a hundred ten in Tucson this last week. Woof."

Just her and me standing outside the door felt good. I teased her, "It rained this week. Low eighties." Isolated thunderstorm for one night. 

"Jealous!" She chuckled and swung her arm across my shoulder. So soft and warm. She was only a few inches shorter than me but I crouched slightly so her arm could rest more comfortably. With a long sigh, she looked out across the cozy town and pronounced, "It's still nice though."

My thundering heart did its darnedest not to read more into that while my brain ordered all the blood to my crotch. I silently prayed spread legs and loose jeans did enough to hide my shame. Sam joined in with a shoulder clasp on the other side. It felt like a four-legged jaunt, for which I had no say in where we were going.

We arrived at Owen's car and I wound up in the middle backseat with two insert pieces. Fortunately, I'd seen this movie and performed an Alan Grant-esce knot of the two ends to keep myself from breathing comfortably for the rest of the trip. 

"And that's...how you make a baby dinosaur", Willow knowingly quipped.

Sam, stretched out a hand and perfectly-stammered, "And-and..t-that's chaos theory."

The jokes helped with the stomach crushing as we kept going down the little two-lane road. Turning left at some railroad tracks, we passed the most photogenic, brick high school. I was used to ones where everything was outside and classrooms were thrown up wherever there was space. And so many parks. Before long, he made a right into an area that could be best described as the unincorporated part of town but crossed with a housing tract. 

For me, "housing tract" implied a cookie-cutter design laid out as far as the eye could see. But here, it was like everyone got to design their own house with majestic fronts and forests and Corinthian columns framed by bricks. Any one of them would've been a celebrity's mansion in California. I figured they weren't dirt cheap here either but each had their charm. Willow pointed out a new favorite at every turn and Owen teased her with how they all looked at Christmas. 

A divider with trees split the road. After another right, Owen pulled into his driveway. It certainly wasn't as long and looping as some but it was comfortably-paved. I unfolded my belt and crept out of Sam's side. 

Owen's house reminded me of another movie. The Steve Martin comedy, Father of the Bride. That was filmed in the city of San Marino, or the nicer neighbor of Pasadena, if my film trivia knowledge served me right. 

But, then again, it looked exactly nothing like the house in that movie aside from being a nice two-story with large windows. Ben came with us and helped grab luggage out of the back.

I soon learned that Sam would head out with Owen to one of the rental agencies so we could have two cars for transporting everyone. But first, back to the commissary to drop everyone else off here and then be on their way. My brain cells were starting to feel the airplane time.... Getting mushy.

And I was eager to find the biggest, comfiest spot on the nearest couch and just rest. 

Inside, it was everything I could hope for from photos Owen shared on his Instagram and Twitter, with the focus on his cats, Leira and Selune.

Willow searched for and fumbled with the name for this style of house. She scrunched her face up behind her glasses as she turned over the word, "continental". I didn't have the heart to tell her that was reserved for fancy-sounding hotel breakfasts. 

"It's like a plantation front. No. When they...COLONIAL!" She slapped her hands hard, until she had to shake them out but breathed a sigh of victory. I amended it was colonial revival style but I only remembered that because she found the right C-word. 

Dated wallpaper covered in bamboo flanked the front stairway with a half bath down a hallway with a walk-in closet and the most 70s kitchen I'd ever glimpsed. To the left, Owen had turned what looked like a spare room into a bedroom with blackout curtains prepared to be hung and two inflatable air mattresses. In the next room, he'd plunked plastic chairs around his dining table.

A snuck around a small office area with more bamboo print and took in the nostalgia of orange plaid wallpaper and dark oak cabinets. For anachronism stew, the appliances looked brand new. A coat rack, washer and dryer, and two exits to the backyard completed the longest kitchen I'd ever seen. A smaller table with enough seating for the rest of us offered a view of an old elm with birds angrily diving away. 

Completing the loop, I eyed a long, suede-blue couch in the wood-paneled den and left my shoes and bags behind to claim a soft end piece for my nap. Ben stretched out as well and propped a pillow behind his head. Willow abandoned her luggage near mine and set about exploring the second floor. I was happy where I was.

The brick fireplace had become a display area for Amiibos, console boxes, and books. The main area featured a 60 inch smart TV set to a screensaver with crisp, aerial video of Hong Kong. Tabletop titles, wargames, D&D materials, and fake weapons showed through a display area with glass doors. 

The room smelled like it had been desperately dusted and vacuumed with a forest-like spray added for extra measure.

It felt good to just not do anything, not say anything, and practically not even think anything, for a little while. Ben made no overture to try to talk to me, as he fished out his phone and turned it sideways a few times.

I rubbed my ears, which had been through an abusive swath of pressures from the hills where I lived to the Valley to LAX to the plane to here. My jaw popped a few times as the A/C stirred and spread actually-breathable air around me. 

After that, I clearly nodded off for more than a minute. The next thing I heard was Willow asking, "Want a blanket?"

Poking an eye open, I saw her backpedal and apologize for waking me. She had a big, blue weighted blanket in her hands. I accepted the offer but just used it to prop up my head. 

Willow spread out between us with a sigh and asked, of no one in particular, "Remote?...."

I took a quick glance around the room and pointed at a shelf near the fireplace. She inspected the remote but only raised the volume of the screensaver music to a distant whisper.

She shifted on the cushion and sighed. I knew she wasn't used to being so quiet. Even her aroma of rose, lily, and lavender, much easier to parse without her pressed up against me, sought to make its presence known.

I casually-inquired, "Any nice rooms upstairs?" 

Willow sat up in attention, even though my eyes were still shut, and regaled, "They're all amazing rooms! The kitchen is sooo big. Then the stairs! I've never had stairs. And the basement! I didn't try the basement yet. But upstairs, you turn left and you have a room like Owen's office, then the two bedrooms. Full bathrooms. And beds. There's so much space. Like I know he sent us the Zillow page when he was looking at it but it's almost like a mansion compared with our rental in Tucson."

I simply offered, "It's real nice. Comfy for the weekend."

She kept going. "Oh my gosh, yes. If like last year, with staying inside and everything, I had this house. Like he had this place since the year before...then it would be like having a spaceship with everything you need. Your own little world carrying you through the universe."

I slipped out a little Terranigma reference in response and that was all it took for her to start quoting lines. I held serve with my own geekdom until she gave a little titter and pronounced, "I can't believe we're finally in the same room. All of us. Well, all of us soon. I was so wrecked when we had to cancel last year. Sucked so bad."

Before she could say anything else, the front door opened with the second wave of everyone. Any nap I could expect to take was well on-hold. Noah could be heard echoing from the other end of the house. Amanda plopped down closest to me and said, "Hey, bro."

I calmly answered, "Hey, sis." We pretended to be brother and sister for a collaboration I could barely remember. Might've been based on a play.

Who can say? I don't remember even half my videos on a good day. Noah plopped his Switch into a spare dock and grabbed Owen, before he left with Sam, to ask how to set up the input.

He invited me last to join a Smash tournament after Willow giddily-accepted a Wavebird with modded sticks, Amanda plugged in a wired GameCube controller, Harley unpacked his own Wavebird, and Noah settled for Joy-Cons. I declined the first round but the allure of everyone having fun with their gloved hands seeking their mains was just too much and I accepted a Gamecube controller as well. 

Blue Kirby, or Blurby, of course, was my pick. Noah had Jigglypuff with a bow while Willow joined with luchador Pikachu. Amanda settled on the female Pokemon trainer with a green hat as Harley stuck with default Marth and Ben had Samus with some blue. Random selected the Super Mario Odyssey stage. 

Not having to deal with Nintendo Online's fickle moods was a blessing as the light trash-talk started. No excuses. No connection drop-off deaths. Just pure competition on a three stock.

Profanities beyond imagining filtered out of my brain about the bullshit of Fire Emblem sword fighters. Noah was just hopping around to be cute and sing us all to sleep. Amanda was ruthless with trying to pound everyone off the edge. Ben and I both made overtures of being sleepy as we got KO-ed. Willow put on a friendly face but her eyes and curl of a smile were out for blood.

After trading KOs with Willow a bit, I finished off Ben after eating his power for a hat. Then, Noah went out after doing too much of a roll. And I didn't last much longer before it was just a fire-breathing dragon and an electric rat double-teaming Harley. Amanda ultimately lasted the longest and I congratulated her.

With only fleeting downtime, we kept our mains through several matches. I got close to winning and made Willow scream and giggle but wins traded between Amanda, Harley, and Noah. We were just finishing a fight when Sam and Owen returned. 

Willow checked out the rental car through the window and Sam grabbed a Pro controller. Owen took care of a few things around the house before he became the color commentator. We all laughed as he described how Samus shattered Pikachu's spine. His ability to talk and pull off combos was enviable for the pace of the game. And Sam filled in some quips right behind him.

The cameras and mics weren't out, so I wasn't going to give production level energy, even if I could muster it. I was here to play with my friends.

While I held my claim to my comfortable section of the couch, the group seemed to cycle around me. While Amanda provided my bulkhead between Sam and Willow with a smattering of playful trash-talking, she also worked her way down to Owen and chirped in with dry wit.

And round they went. Willow's aroma and left sleeve started to overwhelm my thoughts. Sam bumped my shoulder. Noah had his own names for special moves. Ben actually seemed relaxed when we wound up next to each other.

It was like observing a night sky. At first, you figure it's static, but if you are patient or look away for too long, everything shifts. Eventually, the orbits had taken me to Harley.

Owen didn't shift from his corner. But it was his couch and he knew where he wanted to be. Still, he was too hospitable to hoard the best places. 

Later, we split in half for the house tour. I went first with Ben, Harley, and Willow. It surprised me she wanted to go again, especially since she'd already scouted it all out. She shrugged when I inquired and replied, "I'm still curious."

Owen had something to say about each room's wallpaper, especially warning us with a smirk that none of them were lickable. He apologized for what he saw as the disorganized state of the front, spare room with the pair of air mattresses. Before leaving, we helped him hang the black-out curtains where they were supposed to go.

Practically though, the other guys mostly helped him hang them. Harley could just stand there and get the job done. Ben was pretty leggy and Owen was about his height. At least I was taller than the girls, though not by much.

Once the curtains were up, the room receded into chill darkness. I did my best to envision myself in this room, sleeping next to whoever wound up with this setup. The air mattresses didn't look like Goodwill leftovers and they smelled nice. 

Willow gushed over how the kitchen went on forever as Harley carefully crouched to enter it.

With a long sigh, Owen noted, "Well, on the day I have a big family, it'll be sure to put to good use. For now, it's an extra office."

Before going upstairs, he cracked open his fridge and showed off the hot sauce. In person, it had a look like fine wine but without frost on the bottle.

It felt cool but not frigid, thick but not sticky, chunky but not sloshy. Willow tried to give it a sniff but the cap had trapped all the aromas behind a wooden tab more like a cork. Owen seemed to debate popping the top but bowed his head and resolved, "We should give everyone a chance to let their bodies and stomach settle before we open this sucker up."

Ben lingered behind and toyed with the chestnut-toned, open doors that separated the kitchen from the dining area. Meanwhile, Willow marveled at the bounty of cabinets everywhere, poking them open to discover most were empty but clean. Owen set his hands on his hips and noted he still had family china and silverware to unpack from the move. Harley fixed a chair that jutted out from a table.

Taking in the color-scheme, I shoved a question out of my throat and inquired, "Any plans to make some homage short films?"

Cracking an immediate smile, Owen answered, "Tons! Oh, man! We should do a riff on The Shining. It's so hard to do a shoot by myself. Everyone I know in the area is usually busy." Pointing around, Owen clearly had a vision in mind already. Ben and Harley got roped into standing ominously like ghosts in the hallway. I got picked to mime swinging an ax at an invisible door and Willow practiced her screaming against a wall. 

Despite the wheels turning in his head, Owen cleared his throat and assured us and himself, "Tomorrow. I can use it for a promo video. Y'all need rest. We can work on it...tomorrow."

Ben hummed music from a different horror series altogether as Owen pointed out some natural sights through the rear windows. The property had fruit trees, a vegetable garden nearing harvest, and several non-violent deterrents to keep animals away.

Willow expressed unrelenting enthusiasm for seeing a squirrel or a raccoon, even as Owen recounted all the snakes, bobcats, coyotes, and other critters that inhabited the area. Harley grimaced at the mention of snakes. Willow's enthusiasm only spiked as we made our way around and up the stairs. 

To the left, Owen showed off an enormous walk-in closet which held not only all his clothes but all the titles in his retro collection. Making a tight turn from there, he showed off the first bedroom. It was stark-white with a single ceiling fan, some simple furniture, a queen bed, and a small but full bathroom. Willow gravitated to the windows with their lavender drapes casting an ethereal tint across the floor. Owen promised he would hang some blackout curtains in here as well, for anyone who needed it. Harley eyeballed the ceiling fan.

After that was a peach-toned den. Against the near wall, Owen had toned-down a festive poster board into an organized chart of the weekend's activities with other tasks and duties recounted in clean, small script. This was his office. 

All the 4K cameras were in here as well as the fold-up green screen, a server computer, render machine, and enough recording equipment to make even the most casual content creator produce Pavlovian puddles of drool. Ben grinned while Willow wiped her mouth a few times and Harley took a deep breath.

None of this stuff was a surprise since Owen had detailed his setup in public videos and even more in unlisted videos he'd shared with the group, but again it was a different matter to see it all in person.

Owen noted his mobile items for recording downstairs and what we could borrow for smaller, group recordings. Altogether, five recordings could go at the same time and the walls of the house were thick enough that Smash downstairs was completely muted. The walls were also covered in titles from Gamecube to PS5. 

The next room was comparable to the first, simple queen and restroom. The mirror was a fancy, gilded-accent oval and the carpet was a sickly lime-green but otherwise, it was basically the same layout. On the end, Owen just pointed to his own bedroom, quipping, "Granted, I don't use it much. I just fall asleep near my work then get up and get back to it." We all had to nod sympathetically.

So far, I was leaning towards the lime room. Willow seemed most eager for the purple-draped one, I assumed with Sam. Amanda and Ben, despite all overtures of reconciliation, wouldn't want the same room together. I wasn't used to sharing a bed but I could imagine splitting one of the upstairs queens with Ben. 

Granted, we still had the basement to see. Willow squeaked on the stairs and gasped when Owen opened a narrow, closet-like door across from the half-bath into a world like Narnia. Harley hunched over.

Christmas lights wreathed the banister. Framed posters filled the walls like the hallways of a movie theater, only the features were wretched video game box-arts inter-spaced with custom, classy posters (imagine Mega Man 1 beside a pixel map of Earthbound's Onett).

The carpet was a rusty-brown shag with lighter wood paneling on the walls than in the den. It all still bled the 70s. 

A massive, nine-foot sofa covered the wall near a small bar area with a western-style futon half-unfurled against the opposite wall. Aside from a partially-repaired arcade cabinet covered in a drop cloth, the only other features of the space were a CRT connected to a SNES, a cabinet reaching to the ceiling with other carts and board games, and a flimsy door leading to a cramped bathroom with a toilet, shower tub, and standing sink which felt like it'd been added as an afterthought.

So, that brought us to eight 'beds', with four that didn't have to be shared and four that did. At least two of us would have to pair up. I was fine with Ben. Harley would have trouble with a queen but the lengthy sofa might be best. Even with how chatty Noah could be, along with other considerations, I would be fine splitting a queen with him. 

I also considered that the girls might want to room together but the others still needed to see the arrangement. 

Owen dropped us off back at the den and picked up Noah, Amanda, and Sam once they finished their match against a few AI opponents. 

Though some might consider it sacrilege, I was getting tired of Smash. What wind had been roused within me by the presence of the group was slowly leaking out like a Mylar balloon on its last drift. I could imagine so many games and so much fighting but my mind just wanted to sprawl out on the couch and sleep. Just pop out the gray matter and plop it on that comfy blanket.

But, as my eyes drifted closed, Willow burst out, "BABIES!"

A chorus of startled claws skittered across the tan linoleum of the kitchen and scraped against some cabinets. Willow withdrew with a hand to her mouth and quietly apologized. Leaning over the couch, I caught sight of two sets of feline eyes, both the color of a cloudy sky, ducked low against the octagonal-square pattern of the kitchen floor. 

Glancing behind me, I unfurled the blanket and dangled the fringe over the side. Black swarmed the diamond shapes of those irises as both crept towards their target. With a slow hand and some careful beckoning, I led them back into the room. 

Leira was the light-toned Devon Rex with her ears jutting out like a fox. Selune was the hesitant, loaf-like Siamese behind her with her tongue dangling slightly through her teeth. While Selune appeared happiest with hanging back towards the fireplace with a good view of the doorway to the kitchen, Leira hunted the fringe I still wiggled in front of her. 

"Come on, baby..." Willow pleaded gently with a clicking sound and her hands outstretched. She kept one eye on the game but had retreated deep into the lower sections of one of the biggest levels to avoid Ben and Harley's tepid pursuit.

Through just a little coaxing, Leira sprung onto the couch and crept along the crease till she could safely strike at the fringe of fabric. I braced myself as her claws brushed my bare flesh. It didn't tickle but I knew the cost of a cat when wearing shorts. 

I encouraged her to find Willow but it was clear, after trading looks, that she had no interest in leaving her dangling prey or this place on the couch. 

With a sigh, Willow admitted, "I miss my little Leim so much."

I gave Leira a scratch on the head for her and asked, "Your mom still caring for him?"

"Yeah...he's basically my parents' cat because of Sam's allergy. He would be fine if it was a house like this but our rental is too small. Some day, we'll be reunited."

Selune planted herself and didn't move either till Owen returned and assisted with her favorite snack treats in Willow's hands. Sam gave us both a wide berth. Eventually, Amanda cozied up to Leira, inquiring if she knew how to use a GameCube controller. The cat bent forward and laid across the buttons but had no strategy beyond that.

Soon after returning from the house tour, Noah petitioned for both opening the hot sauce bottle and a space in the basement. Sam also pressed about the sauce but Owen's sweeping promise that we would try it early tomorrow once everyone had settled in, with both mind and body, put an end to that. Harley, who'd stretched up on his toes, gave a nod of relief.

Instead, the challenge would be for first bed choice via Mario Kart 8 Deluxe. Owen noted that if any arrangement was ill-suited then people could trade and bargain and work things out amongst themselves but he hoped that the competition would be able to settle the matter.

He automatically sat out the competition, so there were slots. Using some paper, he drew up a tournament that sounded alright but might require someone to play four times. The first round had four on the screen. The winner got three points then down to zero in fourth. AI drivers didn't matter.

Fourth place got to play head to head against the second group of four. Then the lowest-ranked got to play one more time and the highest-ranked faced off. In my head, I was sure there had to be a better system but I wasn't willing to Google it and do the math.

The first game was me against Willow, Harley, and Ben. None of us believed in brakes, even on a level with lots of sharp turns, so the computer was easily going to beat us overall. But Harley came in first with me right on his tail, Ben after that, and Willow in last. She slumped and sighed.

In the next match, with everyone else plus her, she got shelled by Amanda but actually came in second with Sam tailing right behind and Noah screaming about falling off the edge.

And so, like I figured, since she was still at the bottom, she had to play a third time, against Ben, Sam, and Noah. For this, Ben kept his eyes on the screen and barely even blinked. He came in far ahead of everyone else, with Sam doing the best behind him, Noah actually making a good showing, and Willow giving up before competition ended.

So, this bizarre system put Ben, Amanda, and Harley, all match winners, up against me. Yeah, you could say I had some issues with it, whereby I did well enough not to get another chance but bad enough to get slotted against all the winners. 

Surviving Ben's onslaught and Amanda's dirty racing was a small miracle as I actually managed to get enough mushrooms to push past Harley into third. 

Owen's nervous math and checking of tiebreakers took longer than the last competition. Ben won, obviously. Amanda squeaked right behind him and...I was in third. I didn't understand it but I wasn't about to complain. 

The first complication came when Ben wanted the upstairs bedroom on the side, the one with the nicer-looking bathroom. Amanda immediately wanted the other one. Willow and Sam exchanged a quick glance. And so it was my turn.

I contemplated challenging Ben for his bed but I was fine sharing with him. It wasn't worth going through the drama. 

"I'd like to split the upstairs corner bed with Ben."

Ben raised his head and sighed. After a second, he nodded and shrugged, before replying, "Okay." Settled, for the moment.

Harley quickly picked what I expected. He said the long couch in the basement looked great and remarked, "I gotta say I'm quite relieved no one else picked it. Haveta duck a bit coming in but my legs will really appreciate it."

I worried about Sam and Willow and their stern frowns. We had discussed trying to find outside lodgings but Owen urged that he would make sure everyone had a place. With a cleared throat, Sam put his hand on Willow's shoulder and asked Amanda, "Would you be willing to share with Willow?"

Sitting up, Amanda brushed her hair and agreed, "Absolutely. Is she willing?"

Willow looked a little uncertain but he assured her he would be right downstairs on one of the air mattresses. Noah agreed to one of those mattresses too, which left Harley alone in the basement. 

He quipped that meant he could play games all night on the CRT without disturbing anyone and he had his own private bathroom. Owen's settled back with obvious relief. He usually had a better plan in situations like this but it had worked out anyway. 

We stayed in and decided to order a greasy mountain of pizza. I expected a crazy amount of appetizers but, aside from fried peppers, nothing much appealed to me or anyone else. I'd had my spice for the day. Owen was much more coordinated with placing the order.

Till the pizza arrived, we broke off into smaller groups. Noah played Splatoon. Willow dug her Switch out of luggage to play Animal Crossing as Sam joined Owen, Amanda, and Ben in a foursome kart match. I went with Harley down to the basement.

As much as I enjoyed the company, it just being the two of us was a relief.

Harley let out a long breath, set his laptop beside the long couch, and admitted, "I am so glad about the way all that played out. Bonkers. No disrespect to Owen but I was absolutely terrified someone might take this. I called about bookings but I can't drive and...I'm just relieved to put things in order."

I wore a frown of concern and offered, "I'm sure Owen would've worked out something."

"Oh...right-o. I mean I'm sure he would. I just hate the anxiety. Having to crush things for someone else just so I can have some comfort." 

Harley had a lot of bags, almost a full setup of equipment, and several titles packed along the edge of the bag. Before anything else happened, he laid out on the sofa. It was wider than a twin, almost as wide as a queen, and extended well beyond the stretch of his sock-clad toes.

"Ripper! This is it. Soft as anything. I could just conk out right here."

The futon didn't seem bad either. It squeaked and sagged in a few places but it was still pretty comfortable. I offered to bring Harley some pizza and invited him to get some rest, noting, "I feel like I could head to bed at any time."

Scooting up, he cleared his throat. "Oh mate, could you do that? I'd be so grateful." 

I helped him set up a few more things before he decided to use the bathroom. Later, I brought down a full plate of what he'd ordered and discovered a thin blanket pulled across his legs, his shirt off, and his fan-girl-adored hair still damp. I dropped the plate on a nearby table, far enough away so he wouldn't accidentally knock it over but close enough so the fumes were sure to reach him. By the time I stomped up the stairs, he had already started to rouse and clear his throat.

Willow wore a pair of Owen's leftover medical gloves so she could eat her pizza without messing up her Switch. Sam settled in next to me as we both started eating.

My order was a basic supreme with few changes. No matter the pizza, it left both sweet and bitter memories in my mouth. 

If I hadn't put away part of my income from last year to now, I would've had chest pains and spasm coughs over the cost of travel. Owen had a multitude of spinning plates in his life. Harley wielded the biggest audience of us all. Sam and Willow not only had side gigs but a winning combo together. Amanda had her art and a regular job. Ben, I'd joked with Amanda more than once, had the inexplicable ability to eat and survive on anything while working inside little more than a box. Between modeling gigs, he was literally on the street. Noah worked every job possible when his parents threw him out of the house at sixteen. I was lucky but I still felt like I had to tread water by myself, especially in the last year and a half since ad-revenue plunged, along with a lot of other things.

I'd become a leech. More collabs, more guest appearances, more reliance on my community. But I funded my own way to Germantown and, hopefully, the videos would more than make up for it. 

Enough worries. I inspected Willow's island between bites.

Willow had two contrasting styles on it. One was rural, fantasy-like, and reminiscent of the first area in Terranigma. The other was a fledgling effort to make a proper Japanese town. We'd both seen videos of those online and it was clear she was bitterly trying to make hers different while placing the same items and picking them up over and over again. Her eye twitched a little when terraforming.

I offered, "It looks even better than when you last showed it." 

While Willow thanked me, it was like the compliment whizzed over her head as she picked at every flaw, along with the puzzling ratings she received. I'd left my Switch at home, locked in a wall safe, along with all my other consoles. My excuse was either that it needed to be sent in for repair or that I was waiting for it to return from a repair. 

Sam offered me a can of some local knock-off of Sprite from Owen's fridge. It helped slow my breathing even as the continuous cold of the A/C pushed from relief to threatening my sinuses. 

Owen asked me how Harley was settling in and I clung to my breath before answering that he'd already bedded down for the night. Everyone understood, citing his thirty hours of travel. Willow did some quick mental math about the flight time and waiting and marveled that it was still the same calendar day for him.

I liked seeing Willow's hands in gloves, even though they were several sizes too big for her. It gave me cause to look at them without feeling guilty. When she popped off the couch to get rid of her plate, I worked on the same far-off expression that served me when I was right behind her on the stairs. It was rough. Photos may have prepared me for a frontal encounter but the other side of things made my heart race. 

I had to fight my imagination of her just sitting on top of me when she returned. Careful yawns helped as I rehashed up as many things to reminisce about from collaborations with Sam. His dimmed enthusiasm made me fret I might've messed up a social cue somewhere. I drifted through broad statements about cool games until I felt like I had finally extinguished the blush under my collar.

"You alright, man?"

She'd asked it before with concern. He'd asked it with a chuckle. I told him, simply, "Just a long day."

Saying goodbye to the group carried an uncomfortable stiffness. "You all have a good night. I'm gonna try to sleep on...off the jet lag."

Owen's professionalism gave me a social respite as he laid out the plan to start the hot sauce challenge as the first item of proper recording before we transitioned into other things. Willow gave a distracted wave while muttering "turnips"  and Sam waved high over his head. 

Noah was busy setting up his sleeping area but wished me a good night and I found Amanda on the second floor with another slice of pizza. 

"Night, bro." 

"Night, sis." Was all we said to each another.

Ben had already claimed his side of the room, furthest away from the A/C vent and closest to the restroom. He settled on his side and swiftly-explained, "I gotta sleep on my left or I cough all night."

I would've preferred the left as well but I could survive. We both settled on the bed, with a significant gap left in the middle. Ben huddled close to his phone and almost rubbed at his face before jerking his hand away. He sniffled and brushed it with the comforter instead. 

I took a stab and asked, "Is that Disgaea?"

He arched his pale eyebrows and cracked a quick smile. "The direct sequel, D2. Only the first game is on phones but I figured out a way to get it on here. Like, yar me matey? I would buy all of them at full price but only Disgaea 1 Complete is on the Play Store."

Ben had done tons of lore explorations for Disgaea, so I knew a little bit about each one. "Is that the one with Rainier?" 

RainierSeaAngel, his online handle. Ben gave a confident smile and nodded. "This is probably the weirdest one. My opinion. Some people think it goes too far but being over-the-top but still emotional has always been how it goes."

He relaxed towards the center of the bed and turned his phone so I could see the isometric field of battle. My last guest role on Ben's channel was a look at the progression of story and mechanics in tactical RPGs. I enjoyed them but some felt like a tedious grind after a certain stage of progression.

Still, I stuck with him as he recounted how the main character got turned into a girl. But then the game permitted a lot of stuff like that as you "transmigrate" between certain classes. I didn't mind talking lore with him but I really wanted to wash the sweat, humidity, and travel of the day off myself. 

I waited till he got involved in an extended battle to ask if he minded me using the shower first. 

"No. Not at all. I wanna unlock some more save icons first." And I left him to it.

Instead of dragging one of my bags into the bathroom, I sorted out what I needed and placed it in one of the ten-cent bags from the store I had stuffed along the edge, nearly ripped by zipper teeth. My change of clothes was blue with the channel graphic Amanda made for intros: A robed lore-keeper with a scroll that birthed galaxies, castles, and cityscapes. Subtle, incidental advertising on camera for my channel and Amanda's art.

Facing my visage in the mirror was the biggest challenge of the night. I sheared off the worst growth under my chin so I would just need to touch it up in the morning. I couldn't tell if I looked sadder with or without it. The detachable shower head quelled all my tumbling thoughts to a cloud of static.

Only the truly lucky look good right out of the shower. My matted tufts made me looked like the bad guy from some 80s movie after a long chase. I blasted the air freshener over the toilet after I was done and tried to be as decent-smelling as possible. Clothes clinging to the damp spots that refused to dry or die, I wreathed my head with a towel, and hoarsely-told Ben, "All yours." 

He offered a faint, distracted, "Oh, thanks man" as I wandered the second floor. Along the way, I found a rectangular-outline in the ceiling with a dangling cord. It looked like it had been disturbed recently. Attic? I'd have to ask Owen about it.

I could hear the girls through the closed door to the other bedroom. I bit into my lips and considered knocking but I couldn't think of what else to say to Willow. Better to hold my tongue and sift through words unspoken while I sleep than scream sleeplessly at the words I had said late into the night.

Noah and Sam noisily made their way up the stairs and I caught the end of a lighthearted argument about "legal" hiding spaces in Prop Hunt. Noah had been given the okay from Owen to use his master bath and Sam had an agreement to share the girls' bath.

I listened to Willow's happy squeals as Sam knocked and went inside. I crept down the stairs and caught Owen cleaning up. Swiftly, I thanked him, "Thank you for everything", and reassured him everything was fine. 

He gave a hearty, paternal chuckle and wiped everything down as he admitted, "I was afraid this wasn't going to come together either. I nearly lost my gudang mind getting it all set. You scared me the most. I know finances have been rough for all of us over the last like... twenty months. And you've been so generous on commissions. Don't you sweat any meals and feel free to use any of my equipment. I know things are still crazy and I'm really waiting for 'normal' to kick back in."

I assured him it was fine, even though that was a swift load off my mind. We looked at each other and I knew that a bear hug was coming. He still smelled decent for this time of night. I was gonna check on Harley but he assured me that he'd given back his plate, bedded down, and was fine.

Nothing more to do but still plenty to think about.

Back at the room, Ben finished up his shower. I got under a few of the sheets and set the heaviest ones aside so he could have a barrier of privacy and I could still feel somewhat comfortable. It still felt so early when Ben checked his phone one last time and bid me goodnight to turn off the lights. 

The floor shifted occasionally as the girls moved around but their words were too weak to filter through the walls. I remembered the attic even as I forgot it when talking to Owen. My breath felt so loud in the dark and while everything else, even Ben's breath and sniffles, felt so silent. Usually, someone was thumping music at this hour or my fan rumbled across the void. It was almost quiet enough to make my ears ring, my head screaming to hear something.

Eventually, my mind lost the war of nervous silence and nebulous oblivion followed. I wore a soft windbreaker by the sea. Waves crested like mountains and foamed violently along the shore, scaring off an entourage of sandpipers. Jagged rocks framed the shoreline.

As I looked, radiant, bright hair danced around my vision, with sunlight cutting through the steel clouds. I couldn't feel it but I imagined it had to be heavy and thick. My glasses were hazy from the spray. I felt small, smaller than usual. The sensations from my body were absolutely the same but my mind told me something was different. I ignored it as I heard Willow yelling behind me. It wasn't my name but her words sounded urgent. 

Before I could answer, the waves dragged over my bare legs and sent me tumbling backward.

 

Beep...beep...

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