You’re playing Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 while Phillip watches you, arms wrapped around your snug waist as you lie back comfortably into Phillips’s lap, enjoying his comforting warmth.

Lately, you haven’t been playing so well since you’ve been caught up with other things and haven’t had time to practice your skills. Work piling up, figuring out your tax statements and getting those done, and just even keeping your house clean for guests. The game you adored had been pushed aside to focus on real life.

Once you’re finally back to playing, you’re pretty ass at it. Kill after kill, followed by death after death, after death, after death, as you can already anticipate your death count at the end of the round far exceeding your kills.

What is going on? You don’t remember being this bad. At least, you’d get maybe ten kills per round, but to get almost none at all?

It isn’t until Phillip rubs his face into your shoulder and murmurs, “The other team’s cheatin’, darlin’,” finally getting you to notice why you’ve been dying so much. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was certainly obvious now. In-game bullets were glitching through the container walls, instantly killing you.