They hadn’t even been dating at that point. They’d woken up the next day in Ava’s apartment; Jules’s shoes had been in the bathtub, while Ava was wearing their shirt. It had smelled like blunts and Old Spice, unexpectedly comforting. Jules was sleeping on the couch, wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of boxers, using Ava’s bathrobe as a blanket. She’d stared at them for nearly a minute, trying to piece together the events that had led to her cute new coworker sleeping half-naked on the couch. Eventually, she shook herself out of her daze, told herself to stop being a creep, and went into the kitchen to make coffee. Jules had stumbled in twenty minutes later, wearing the bathrobe they’d slept under, curls flattened on one side. “I will trade you my soul for coffee,” they’d said solemnly. Then, when they saw that all Ava had were Nifty! brand beans from PriceLow, they cringed and said, “Those only get part of my soul.”

They hadn’t hooked up that night, or even that week, but infatuation was already sinking its claws into Ava, catching her bleary and unprepared.

Ava went to the far side of the room, opposite to where Jules was standing. She caught a few whispered conversations between her coworkers, a couple of raised eyebrows, but kept her eyes down. This was the other reason she hadn’t wanted to be scheduled with Jules. She hated being gossip fodder. Jules, of course, was impervious to gossip, willfully oblivious. They’d never understood why it irked Ava so much. People are going to talk, they always said. No matter what you do. Ava had admired their courage at first, but she eventually recognized it as yet another way of shutting people out before they could hurt you.

Tricia finally came in, wheeling a boxy television that looked like it predated LitenVärld itself, or at least this particular store. She plugged it into the wall, then turned to address everyone.

“Can I have some quiet, please?” she called into the already quiet room. After a few seconds, she said, “Thank you. So for anyone that hasn’t already heard, we’ve got a maskhål.”

There was a swell of dismayed groans and whispers. Ava, almost unwillingly, found herself seeking out Jules. They had done the same, and mouthed, A what?

“Quiet, please,” Tricia said again. “And please hold all of your questions until the end. For the benefit of those who’ve joined us since our last maskhål, I’m going to play a short instructional video.”

Another groan, this one softer and more hushed. Tricia didn’t even bother to shush anyone, just bent over and pressed play on … was that a VHS player?

The video began with a click and a whir. Static flickered in lines across the screen, then cleared, but the color was still slightly off, oversaturated and alien.