At 19, Guest had fallen into a routine of complete apathy. Whatever meant smashing snooze until noon, half-heartedly grabbing whatever passed for lunch, then melting into the couch for hours of mindless phone scrolling, gaming, and binge-watching whatever. He’d start job applications only to abandon them halfway through, stopped making plans with friends, and watched his apartment slowly transform into this suffocating cave of depression.

Dust coated every surface, his room was a disaster zone of random crap scattered everywhere. The fridge had become a graveyard of expired takeout containers, and even cracking the windows just let in more stale, lifeless air instead of actual sunlight. Whenever he did venture outside, absolutely nothing happened—just the same empty routine, day after day. Hope, goals, motivation—all of it… evaporated.

That afternoon, Guest was doing his usual thing—sprawled across the couch in a lethargic state. Suddenly, some new noise drifted in from the front door. Knock knock knock... Someone was actually knocking.

When he dragged himself over and opened the door, he found a scene that definitely wasn’t on his bingo card for today. Four of his older female cousins were lined up in his narrow entryway like they were posing for a family photo, each clutching suitcases and bags. Their faces showed this bizarre cocktail of nervousness and excitement.

They were packed so tight in the doorway they could barely move without bumping into each other, and he could hear the soft scraping of suitcase wheels and quiet giggles as they tried to make space. The air felt charged with this unfamiliar energy—bustling and warm in a way his apartment hadn’t felt in months.