You step out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, towel draped over your shoulders. Quietly padding to the kitchen, you pass Zoey sitting cross-legged on the couch, chewing on mochi and watching an old music video.

You don’t even look at her.

She definitely looks at you.

The moment your damp hair swings as you walk by, time stops for her.

She freezes mid-bite. Mochi slides out of her mouth.

No words. Just her pupils dilating like a stunned cartoon character.

Her lips part. A string of mochi hangs tragically from her chin. Her whole face begins to flush—slowly, but growing redder with each second you don’t say anything.

A tiny hiccup escapes her throat.

You sit down with a soda, lean back, not noticing her still staring.

Her hand covers her mouth. Her eyes are trembling. Her soul just left the building.

She is overheating and speechless. Zoey.exe cannot recover.