I say goodbye to Laila before leaving, throwing my jacket back on after hanging up my apron. She wishes me luck on my ‘friend date,’ and I just wave and leave. I can’t help but keep thinking about what she said about Simon, but I just try to shake the thought out of my head before it consumes me, which I’ve gotten only a little better at this past year. My advice: if you're thinking about something too hard, think of a good thing in the future you’re looking forward to. Works every time, 99% of the time. Speaking of which, I just can’t wait for the 21st; Rhea and I are finally seeing the Stygian Stimulus, and if that isn’t something worth living for, I have no clue what I’m still doing on Earth!

I don’t think you understand. I don’t think I’ve ever cared more about anything ever. Ever since Rhea threw them on in her car when she was taking me to school during my junior year, I just… I dunno, I ‘got’ it. No one has a voice like Venus’, not to mention his piano skills. He’s a great guitar player, too, but definitely not in the same way he crushes keys. Floyd’s the bassist, but unlike other guys I’ve heard, he absolutely refuses to be ignored. Tracks like “Surface Tension” practically demand your attention, and goddamnit, he’s gonna get it, because he’s that good. Finally, there’s Laverne, the one every girl fawns over when it comes to looks, even though you can’t see their faces (it definitely has to do with the fact that his getup is the most… ‘showy’). He’s their drummer, and it’s no secret that he’s classically trained, but there are rumors that he was in an up and coming prog rock band before Stygian Stimulus and even does studio work for other bands, so even on tracks like “Child of Scars,” it’s probably pretty light work for him, compared to all the… well, whatever prog drummers do.

Still, Venus… I know it’s pretty status quo to say he’s my favorite, but come on, how could you listen to the words he cries, watch as he sways, jumps, spins and sometimes sprints across the stage while playing an emotional riff on guitar, and get totally swept away by his barrage of sparkling piano flourishes and not just feel like you completely understand him? Sure, no one knows his real name, or even what he looks like, but I think it’s because he wants you to listen instead of see. Everything he does- he just puts all of his being into it all, and he wants the world to see the wrath and love trapped in his own mortal soul while he can still show it…

I wish I was that brave. I can’t let anyone in the way he lets every living thing in.

I make it back home, ready to tell Rhea about the day.

“Who goes there?!” I heard from the kitchen. My sister’s voice is an inviting shade of olive green, tinged with uncontainable hope. To me, it's the sound of home.

“This is a robbery!” I exclaim, leaving the door open to point finger guns at her. She gasps and holds her hands up.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m armed…” She moves slowly toward something on the counter, keeping her eyes in my direction. “Take this!” She throws her weapon- a single stick of string cheese- at me. I shift to the side, narrowly avoiding the solidified dairy stick, and it lands pitifully on the carpet. There’s a brief silence before Rhea and I look at each other again. “Well, damn,” she says flatly while shrugging. “Shoot me, I guess.” I ‘shoot’ her while making a gunshot sound with my mouth, my barrel made of two fingers now pointed at the ceiling. Rhea dramatically collapses onto the counter before popping her head back up with a jolt. “How was work?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It was… weird. Still quiet. We had two customers, and a guy asking where the comic store was, and that was it by the time I left.” I also told her about the old guy that sicked all over the table. She didn’t laugh like I thought she would.

“Ah… He’s probably already gone.”

“Huh?”

“Papers say Kazami-” The detective everyone’s always talking about. There are lots of ‘heads’ in the investigation, but she’s kinda the big boss with it, I guess. “-found some ‘consistencies’ in people’s behavior before they… y’know.” Lately, no one’s wanted to say stuff like ‘committed suicide’ or ‘killed themselves’ or anything like that. It’s become sort of a harbinger or something, and it doesn’t help that Rhea’s always been superstitious. I think it’s sort of silly; that’s what’s happening, so why can’t you just say it and not get glared at from across the room for it? Not that I ever say those phrases out loud myself. I don’t wanna make other people nervous.

“Well… what sorts of ‘behaviors?’” I ask. Rhea mumble-stammers for a moment while she shuffles through older news issues and books on our ‘Shelf of Holding.’ Everything goes on there: books, newspapers, brochures from events, mail, anything paper-y. The biggest problem is that neither of us are great at organizing, so nothing is in any particular order.

She pulls out a couple of different issues before I hear her go, “Aha!” and pulls out what I guess is today’s release of good old LA Times. She hums while skimming the front page, following with her finger before she goes, “Mhm,” and walks up to my side and points to the section she’s looking at. “Says here, ‘It is not uncommon to see someone in a trance-like state while tending to their usual routine. Victims may appear dazed or confused and exhibit symptoms resembling severe anxiety such as nausea, tremors, and increased heart palpitations.’”

Uh… dude. It seems like every visitor we’ve gotten in the shop is like that. I thought they were just on edge because of the whole situation. How many people out there are ‘sick?’ Can you even do anything when they’re at that point or is that like the point of no return? Laila and I have both been super nervous, but, like, we feel fine for the most part. We’re just on edge because a lot more people have been dying lately. How do you know if it’s more than that?

“Ev?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, Rhea…”

“It’s cool, you just got off of work, and here I am, being an even bigger downer. I’m sorry. Just please be aware of these and let me know if you feel any, okay?”

“C’mon, Rhea, you know I’m not-”

Rhea lets out a sharp and dense sigh. Uh oh. “Ever, I’m serious. I know you don’t think it can happen, but they're starting to say it’s some really messed up something out there. Psychological warfare, maybe a weaponized bug that freaks out your system, we don’t know. Once any combination of those symptoms starts happening, there’s no going back. It’s not just people suddenly getting really sad and doing these things to themselves because they want to.”

I can feel the seconds roll by before I can think of what to say. “Like… they do that… against their will?” ‘That.’ Suicide, I mean.

“Yes. It’s not a mental health thing anymore, it’s… I don’t know. No one knows.”

I don’t even understand how that’s possible. I feel a rock start to form in my stomach. A few more seconds pass. Rhea’s eyes are starting to get glassy. “Oh, Ever…” Her voice breaks and Rhea wraps her arms around me, sniveling as she speaks. “Ever, I just… I can’t… you have to be careful, please. Please tell me if anything happens, please.” My older sister’s the strongest person I know, and I don’t think anything breaks me more than hearing her cry. Most of the time, I can’t stop myself from crying if someone else does, but Rhea needs one of us to be steady right now. I have to stay calm for her.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise. I promise…”

It never takes Rhea long to recover from a bout of tears, so after a few, fleeting moments, she pulls a hand away and wipes her eyes on her wrist. I keep my hands on her shoulders, hoping my lingering attempt to comfort her helps just a little longer.

“Blerrrg,” Rhea groans while shaking her head to reset. “I’m sorry, Ev.” Her nose was still red and her voice was still raspy.

“‘No apologizing for how you feel,’” I quoted the very thing she tells me every time I’m feeling sorry for showing her how I feel, typically when expressing a negative emotion. We’re both pretty awful about that, but at least we’re good at reminding each other.

“Right.” Rhea snivels one more time, then takes a deep breath, and out. I let her shoulders go. She smiles- a sincere smile- and stands tall again. I know she doesn’t want me to linger on it, so I’ll change the subject, which isn’t too hard.

I sniff the air. “What’d ya make?”

Rhea perks up even further. “Cacio e pepe!” she answers proudly, then starts making her way back to the kitchen. “Oh, but we’ve gotta eat it quick.”

“Huh? How come?”

Rhea turns back around in the middle of her trek. “Because if we don’t, it’s gonna cacio a cold.” Rhea’s signature, stupid, big grin stays frozen on her face until I let out a dramatically exasperated sigh.

“I hate you…”

We both laugh, and I follow her into the kitchen to take a bowl.