Sunday afternoon

As Kenzie staggers out of the attic and back to her room, Chad meets with Mike in the garage to work on the Mustang. Cherie curls up on the sofa, a light throw blanket over her legs, trying to find solace in the familiar, mindless rhythm of a 90s sitcom. She needs the "normalcy" of the Bundys to drown out the memory of the tropical beach, the mirror, and the heavy, lingering heat in her lower belly.

You drift behind the sofa, your essence bleeding into the electronic pulse of the TV. You wait for the moment Marcy D'Arcy—the show's symbol of neurotic, suburban "morality"—enters the scene.

On the screen, the Bundy living room is crowded. Zorro the stripper, a muscular man in sunglasses and a thong is gyrating to a funky bass line. Peg and Kelly and the other girls are cheering as Marcy shoves a dollar bill in his G-string.

As the script begins to warp under your influence, the episode takes a jagged, surreal turn. Marcy reaches out, her hand trembling, and grips Zorro’s hand. The laugh track roars, but the sound is slightly distorted, deeper.

"I'm taking him upstairs," TV-Marcy announces, her eyes wide and glazed. "I need to... test a theory. It has very... deep... repurcussions."

"Have fun, you two!" Peg calls out, lounging on the sofa with a glass of wine.

TV-Marcy stops at the top landing, turning back to the camera. Her wedding ring glints under the studio lights. "Now, Peggy, you know I would never cheat on Steve," she says with a stiff, rehearsed smile. "This is strictly... curiosity."

The studio audience lets out a cynical, knowing “Ooooooh!” that echoes in the real living room.

Cherie's thoughts are reeling. That’s what I say. That’s exactly what I say to myself. ‘I’m a faithful wife.’ ‘I’m not like Alexis.’ But look at her. She’s lying. She knows she’s lying, and the whole world is laughing at her. Am I that transparent? Is Mack laughing at me?