Laura and Tyler are the architects of this beautiful, rotting empire. They move through the city like ghosts in sequins, haunting the pubs and the damp alleyways, convinced that as long as the glass is full, the clock hasn't actually started ticking. For a decade, they’ve been "just about to start" their lives. Laura has a notebook full of first sentences; Tyler has a wit that could cut glass but only ever bruises her own liver.

In the 720p glow of a digital memory, they are forever young, forever messy, and forever stuck in the frantic, beautiful middle of nowhere.

It’s the terrifying realization that the party isn't a rebellion anymore—it’s just a habit. To stay is to disappear into the wallpaper. To leave is to walk out into a world where no one is clapping for your potential.