Some half-baked high-concept bullshit happens.

"Worthless," he said as he poured the contents of a bottle label FOURTH WALL BREAKER down the drain, her hive mind messing with her pronouns. "Why would anyone want to talk to the kind of people who read- ow! Shit!"

A small drop of the fluid trickled down your arm, leaving a trail about as wide as the line breaks in this document. I stare at it, then at you.

"What are you looking at?" we demand. "The stories are down there."