@colton.weyburn

The screen has been open for forty minutes. Not because there's a decision left to make — the card is already saved, the little wheel already loaded, spinning in place waiting for a finger — but because you keep almost… read on →

Robert Kanaly's kitchen smells like drywall dust and the coffee he made himself at four this morning before the call came in — a burst pipe on Franklin, easy money, cash job. You're standing at his counter in his body,… read on →

The knife is still warm in Vikram's hand when the boredom finally wins. You've been him three minutes and that's already too long. The apron smells like blood and pork fat, the walk-in hums behind you, and somewhere out… read on →

You're standing at Colin's sink, wrists under the water, and it's already wrong how fast you decided this. Two minutes in him and you know his kitchen, his good knife set, the smell of the shop downstairs baked into… read on →

You are Tyler Bracey, and Tyler Bracey's gym smells like bleach and old canvas, and it is nearly dark outside the propped door, the heat finally letting go of the parking lot. You've had this body two minutes. You spun… read on →