Turn 87 of 228

Check OnlyFans and reply to comments on the theater video. Then keep playing overcooked and let the afternoon ride. When Diane and Carl leave, ask her what she thinks Henderson will actually do when he sees you

The game pauses — bathroom break, Carl says, though nobody in this apartment uses the bathroom — and Lena picks up the phone and opens OnlyFans and the theater video is still climbing. 2,847 likes when she checked this morning. Now it's 3,104. The subscriber count sits at 612 and the notifications are stacked deep — comments, tips, messages — and the afternoon light is gold and the apartment is warm and the four of them are scattered across the couch and the floor and the phone is on the belly and the screen is bright.

She scrolls through the comments. Most of them are what she expects — the usual mix of awe and hunger and people who found the video and couldn't look away. One says "you four are disgusting and I mean that as a compliment" and she likes it. Another says "the one with the beard — is that a woman?" and she replies: "yes." Someone tipped $5 with a comment that just says "more" and she stares at it and the word sits on the screen and the wish hums and she types back: "I'm not stopping."

A longer comment sits near the bottom. "I've been following since the bikini photo. You used to look like a person. Now you look like something else. I don't know if I mean that as a compliment either but I can't stop watching." She reads it twice. The belly is warm and the phone is warm and the afternoon is gold. She types: "I used to look like a person who was uncomfortable. Now I look like a person who isn't. That's the whole video."

Marcus unpauses the game. The kitchen loads — a new level, a sushi restaurant, the four chefs spawning on a moving train — and the screaming starts again. Carl is throwing rice off the screen and Diane is yelling about the cutting board and Marcus is trying to plate a roll while the train shifts and Lena's chef is running between cars and the score is climbing and the afternoon rides and the light moves and the food is gone and the beer is warm and the controllers are warm and the toenails click on the carpet and the score climbs and the levels pass and the hours blur.

Diane and Carl leave at eight. Carl stands first — 345 pounds rising from the floor, the beard dark, the belly wide, the body unwashed and warm — and he stretches and the stretch marks catch the hallway light and he walks to the door and doesn't say goodbye because none of them say goodbye. Diane stands from the couch and the cushions rise and the springs exhale and she is 387 pounds and the beard is full and the body hair is thick and the stretch marks are everywhere and she pulls on nothing because there is nothing to pull on and she walks to the door beside Carl and the two of them are in the hallway and the smell of them lingers.

Lena follows them to the door. Marcus is on the couch, the controller on his belly, the screen in sleep mode. The hallway is dim and the apartment is behind her — the wreckage of the afternoon, the cartons and the cans and the stains — and Diane is in the hallway and the beard is dark and the brown eyes are clear.

"What do you think Henderson will actually do?" Lena says.

"When he sees me."

Diane looks at her. The look is long and the hallway is dim and the beard frames the face and the belly is round and the stretch marks catch the overhead light.

"I think he'll see the numbers first," Diane says. "And the numbers are so good he'll already be off-balance. And then he'll see the office. And the office will confuse him. And then he'll see you and the confusion will become something else."

"What?"

"I don't know," Diane says. "That's the part I can't control. But I'll be there. And the numbers answer everything."

She turns and walks and Carl walks beside her and the hallway is quiet and the door is open and the apartment is warm and Tuesday is two days away and the wish hums.