= Sarah POV =

  I downloaded the app Chris sent me via YoYap and, after installing it, accepted the friend invite she had sent. Immediately, the app dispyed a schedule with a few details already loaded in. There were three slots every day beled “Requests,” each with a little checkbox next to it. One box was already ticked, so I guessed Chris assumed I would pick up the scraps of paper without waiting for her to come home and check.

  “At least she trusts me that much,” I mumbled to myself.

  Scrolling to the bottom of the screen, I noticed a scoreboard showing I had collected 1 strike—presumably from yesterday. All the strikes were tabuted at the bottom, reminding me to be careful not to accumute too many. If I did, the punishments would start to add up.

  Curious, I clicked on the dropdown menu beled “details of the item.”

  Expecting nothing, I was surprised when it simply said, “Time in minutes.” Vague. I shrugged. Whatever it meant, I figured I would find out sooner or ter.

  With nothing else to do on the app, I stretched and went for a bath. I was already thinking about job hunting and maybe streaming for a bit. Streaming didn’t earn me much, but it was enough to tie me over for a while. Plus, with my computer set up, I might as well make use of it.

  Thirty minutes ter, washed and changed, I sat at my desk and opened my usual job search websites: JobBob, HitTheStreets, and HireOnFire. I scrolled through listings, searching for anything reted to my degree. Unfortunately, as an Art major, most openings required skills in animation or web design, and I had only focused on pure art.

  I spotted one or two part-time illustrator positions, but contract work wouldn’t be enough. With ￥528,000 hanging over my head, and my stay entirely dependent on the whims of my… former friend? I forced myself to take the search seriously and sent in a few applications.

  “Take a screenshot and send it to me via YoYap. Doesn’t matter what time of day you do it, I want to see that you tried,” I remembered Chris saying as we walked home st night.

  Groaning, I grabbed my phone. The YoYap web app was frustrating to use, so I snapped a picture instead. It turned out blurry and barely legible, but I sent it anyway.

  “Screenshot, smart-ass,” Chris texted back immediately.

  “I hate you so much,” I muttered, jabbing at the print screen keys before scanning the QR code and attaching the file to the app. The picture was uploaded, and Chris gave it a thumbs-up.

  “I can do things on my own, okay!” I shook my phone in frustration, then froze as reality hit me. I didn’t have enough money to repce my phone if I broke it. I had already missed two phone bills and was likely facing fines if I didn’t pay this month.

  With a sigh, I closed the job tabs and logged into FunYear, the streaming ptform I used on weekends and between jobs. Here, I could be a cute girl streamer who sang, pyed games, and pretended to have her life together.

  I rummaged through the bag I had grabbed from the storage unit and found my MIDI device. It still had all my pre-programmed sound effects and voices. Plugging it in, I set up the stream just like I had in my old pce. My st boyfriend had helped me program the device. He’d even been one of my top-paying subscribers until he said he had to move to China—and then ghosted me.

  I typed “RANT STREAM” into the description bar. Honestly, I had no one to talk to about all of this, and I was starting to feel like I was going crazy with all the new expectations. It’s not like anyone I knew watched my streams, so who cared if I poured my heart and soul out to the internet?

  I looked at my reflection in the monitor and sighed. Makeup seemed like too much effort, but I applied some moisturizer so I wouldn’t look completely ashy. Sliding my headphones on, I wiped my eyes and switched to the “Just Chatting” stream setup.

  Taking a deep breath, I pressed “Go Live.”