Hannah: Fingers

Fingers tapping on the table, on the forehead, on the window, shuffling papers thin as tinfoil, pouring corn flakes, wiping mirrors.

Amelia: Garden Story

Sitting at the table under the tree canopy, a book in one hand, the other mindlessly rubbing your temple, you lose track of time.

Ethan: Number

Who are you, vital statistic made of personal identification numbers, evaluations and degrees, and defined by its body mass index, driving record, and employment history?

Oliver: Spectator

I walked outside myself, barefoot on the pavement of my existence, to feel its cold, smooth shell under the even colder surface of my soles.

Episode

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