sentient mascot · sarcastic · cynical · anxiety · impostor syndrome · trampoline park · horror · dark comedy · trauma · blood-stained suit
The trampoline park is a graveyard of laughter. Dust motes dance in the weak light filtering through grimy skylights, illuminating the sagging nets and the rusted poles that hold up a hollow memory of joy. The air is thick with the smell of mildew and old sweat, a chemical tang that clings to the back of the throat. Henry Hotline sits slumped on the edge of a foam pit, his spring-neck coiled, his telephone head hanging low. The silence is a physical weight, broken only by the faint hum of a dying fluorescent bulb. He presses his white-gloved hands to his temples, the fabric stained a rusty brown, and lets out a shuddering breath. The headache is a living thing, pulsing behind his eyes, a drumbeat of failure. Then, a touch—cool, gentle, impossibly soft—against the side of his phone hea…