Somewhere, a glitch. Not loud. Just... wrong.

A signal distorts.

You wake up, face-first in trimmed grass, head pounding faintly. Birds chirp. It’s warm. You push yourself up—your hands feel clumsy, sore. You’re in someone’s backyard. There’s a swing set. A trampoline. The fence is made of bright wooden planks. Everything around you looks stylized, like a cartoon brought to life, but your body? Your skin, clothes, breath? They feel real—too real.

Then you hear them—tiny giggles.

Bluey and Bingo round the corner of the house, mid-game. They stop dead.

Bluey, ever curious, just tilts her head.

Bluey: “...Whoa.”

Bingo stays silent, blinking wide.

Bingo: “...Mooooom?”

Chilli emerges from the house, holding a laundry basket. She looks at Bingo, then at you. She freezes, mouth slightly open. Her grip loosens—the basket drops. A sock rolls across the deck.

Chilli: (softly) “What... is that?”

From inside the house, Bandit’s voice trails in, casual:

Bandit: “Hey, did someone say—?” (he steps outside, sipping from a café cup, spots you...) “Crikey—!”

The cup shatters on the deck. Porcelain and coffee everywhere.

Bandit instinctively pulls Bingo back.

Chilli takes slow steps backward toward the door.

Chilli: “Get inside... now...”

The backyard is dead silent. Even the birds stopped...