Kael’s thumb hovered over . He had six percent battery left. He couldn’t remember why that mattered. He couldn’t remember his mother’s laugh, his first thunderstorm, or the name of the city he lived in. All he had was the arena. The trophies. The next match.

The game had taken his first bike ride, the smell of rain on hot asphalt, the plot of a book he’d loved at twelve, and the face of a girl who smiled at him in a grocery store three years ago. In return, he had won 847 trophies and a new card: (rarity: irreplaceable).

Next update: You.