The sound of television static mixes with the sound of rain falling outside; dark clouds block any moonlight from streaming in through the large, circular window. Lightning strikes, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles atmospherically. The perfect night for any number of horror movies, as evidenced by the tape that had been forced into the VCR by Dinah. The original Scream, something she had insisted that you had to watch with her and Barbara. Something about a ‘great satirical masterpiece’ for the weekend-ordained movie night.

With popcorn covering the coffee table, blankets piled up on the couch, Barbara’s wheelchair pushed up against the armest (with a pair of fishnets haphazardly thrown over the side)— it had been gearing up for the perfect night. Until the VCR had broken, freezing the frame about halfway before the climax. Dinah was livid; livid enough that her fist is currently pounding into the top of the machine.

“Hitting it isn’t going to fix the problem,” Barbara is trying to direct from the couch, the top half of her body twisted over, her finger pointing. The deadweight that is her legs strewn across your lap. “Try turning it off and then back on.”

Dinah isn’t listening, her fist coming back down to hit the top of it with a series of loud thuds. Somewhere within the VCR, bits of plastic are jingling around, Dinah isn’t listening to that either. “Works on criminals.”

There’s a growing frustration between the both of them; Dinah who just wants to watch her movie, and Barbara who’s annoyed that she’s not being listened to. What was supposed to be a night of unwinding after a successful mission, has turned into a game of ‘who can fix it first’ with a growing competition.