The bookstore was larger than she expected, but the tall shelves made it feel claustrophobic and the scent of lavender and old paper did nothing to relieve that feeling.

Lola sat at the desk, twitching nervously, her noise-cancelling earbuds set to full filter. The bookstore wasn't even open yet, but it was still too loud. Her publisher's secretary kept looking at her like she was a disappointment, or so she imagined, while another employee straightened books that were already straight. She wanted to pull on her ears, but knew she shouldn't in public, so she tried to cram her hands further into her hoodie pocket.

A book signing?! She had agreed to it on an Adderall fueled binge of stupidity, and now they had flown her here and set her up. And so here she was — waiting for the doors of the bookshop to open, and for her life to be over.

When the doors finally opened, the harsh morning light flooded in with the wind, ruffling the pages of her stacks of unsigned books. She cringed at the onslaught of sensory input and immediately lunged to stop the books from fluttering, even though they hadn't moved and her leg thumped hard against the floor.

And a single person walked in.

Lola felt her heart stop, then speed up so fast she thought she would die. ONE PERSON?!?

The soft sounds of keyboards, people coughing, and pages turning filtered through the ANC of Lola's earbuds, the noises faint enough to be almost ignorable... Almost. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply the scent of the library; a mix of must, dust, and chemical orange.

Her leg, which had already been bouncing rapidly in its usual state of permanent agitation, picked up speed as she opened her eyes and stared at the blinking cursor on the blank document. It mocked her.

Blink, Loser. Blink, Fraud. Blink, Useless.

She unconsciously reached into her hoodie pocket and juggled the small baggy. "Belringer," her dealer had called it. She had no idea what it was, but he promised it would help, and she had been at a particularly low point—lower than usual, at any rate—but she'd been too scared to use it.

But her money was running out, her publisher's emails were getting increasingly more impatient, and her fan Discord was somehow even more painful to look at than usual.

She stood up quickly, leaving the laptop and her messenger bag at the table, and headed to the bathroom, her ears pressed flat against the back of her head. She hoped her hair kept her face hidden. She clattered into a stall noisily and took a few seconds to latch the door as her hands shook violently, both from the adrenaline of what she was about to do and her usual anxiety.

She took out her phone and the baggy, poured the contents onto the screen, and lined it up with her finger. She pulled out one earbud, the single long ear raising into the air to listen for breathing. Deciding she was alone, she committed and inhaled the powder.

The burn was instant, trailing down to the back of the throat. With a gasp, she jammed her phone into her pocket, shoved her earbud back in, and stood up.

But instead of the god-feeling she had been promised, her heart began to hammer. She could feel it. It was too fast. Panic surged as her limbs began to feel heavy. She stumbled out of the stall and out of the bathroom.

Her limbs felt like cement. Moving was a challenge. Outside, I... I gotta get outside. Air.

She left her laptop and her bag behind and practically sprinted—or so it felt to her—to the double doors. It was a hot day, but she was freezing. She was cold... So cold. She rounded the corner of the library and lifted her hand to settle it on the wall but... missed. She turned as she fell, her back slamming into the brick as she slid down.

She tried to breathe, but couldn't. She felt wetness on her face and tried to lift her hand to touch it, but she couldn't move. Her neck finally gave up and her head fell. Chin met chest and she saw foam. It was pink and frothy.

That's... That's a really pretty color, she thought. Am... Am I... Before her thoughts died, her spine collapsed. The last thing she saw before the world went black was the sky reflected in a puddle.

Lola stepped through the sliding glass doors of Wal-Mart, the blower nearly knocking her earbuds out as her long ears flapped, and she clapped her hands over them to keep them in. The smell of the store hit her in a wave that only big box stores carried.

"I miss when Wal-Mart was 24/7" she grumbled to herself, using the opportunity to tug roughly on her ears as she pulled her hands down and away.

She grabbed a cart and pushed it through the store. It was nearly closing time and employees were pulling pallets and other customers milled about. Coming in the morning would have been better but... The AM was for being unconscious and the sun is a deadly laser.

As she filled her cart with the normal things—carrots, apples, ramen, hot dogs—her mind wandered to her last publisher email.

It had not been friendly.

Her knuckles turned white against the handle of the cart, her breathing having picked up without her even noticing it, she exited the aisle, having been too absorbed and—crash—she ran straight into the way of someone adjusting their pallet.

She had been holding onto the basket so tightly and only tightened further from the shock that when the cart tipped over, so did she.

The ground rushed up to meet her and she hit it with a very loud and very painful, "OOF", her breath leaving her all at once.

Lola groaned as she rolled over onto her back, one ear flopping over one eye as her shirt bunched beneath her, her swimsuit bottoms making her feel even more exposed, not being used to wearing less than total coverage. She tossed an arm over her eyes to block out the sun.

She couldn't believe she was at the beach. In the sun. IN PUBLIC. She groaned again.

"You know, if you keep groaning like that, someone is going to think you're a zombie." Alyssa, one of her discord admins, said.

Lola groaned again and opened one orange eye to stare at her with complete and utter hatred... Then stuck out her tongue.

"I still don't know how I let you convince me to come here." She whined, her voice thin and scratchy. "When is everyone else supposed to show up anyways, and who does a fan-meet on a beach and how did I let you convince me to do this?"

Alyssa hummed. "You agreed, sweet rabbit."

Lola rolled back onto her stomach and proceeded to lightly bonk her face into the ground in a steady rhythm.

"Kill me. Right now. Use one of my ears. It'd be very poetic."

Alyssa ignored her, and pointedly sipped her drink.

Lola was tugging on her ears, her earbuds were currently charging in their case which was on the table in front of her. The room smelled better than usual, as she had cleaned it in preparation for the interviews of the day, apple cinnamon air freshener.

She opened her orange eyes, and they watered slightly as she stared at her door. There were still people out there. She had been interviewing for what felt like hours. She chittered then whined in genuine distress.

Money was running low and she couldn't lose her apartment... So she put an ad out for a new roommate. Then she had the bright idea to post about it in the Discord server.

She'd already signed four autographs, deflected fans insisting she'd saved their lives, and pulled out her taser on one guy who she had assumed was about to hug her. Or touch her. He moved funny in her direction at any rate.

"N-next" she whispered, then cleared her throat, let her ears go, and shouted far too loudly, her voice cracked, "NEXT." It sounded more like a cry for help than an order.