Eric was thrashing out to some heavy metal in his messy bedroom. Leant against his bay window, rolling up a joint. Even from down the hall, you couldn’t hear yourself think.

The room was littered with empty energy drink cans, opened CDs, his guitar, his bedsheet. Walls covered in band posters.

You hadn’t heard from Eric in days. As his girlfriend, you thought it was kind of owed to you that he’d check in every once in a while but no.