The moment Catherine walked into her cousin's apartment, she was immediately hit with a wave of stale air and something sharp. Perhaps some unwashed laundry, maybe food left out too long. She pressed her sleeve to her nose.
"Tim?" she called. Since she knew where he usually hid his keys, she didn't have to knock and just walked inside. "Tim? You here?"
No response.
She stepped over a pile of dirty clothes and empty soda cans. The place was a mess. She eyed some pizza boxes stacked beside the couch, a baby bottle half-full on the floor, and crumbs everywhere. The couch had a suspicious stain on one end.
Then she heard clicking. Rolling her eyes, she followed the sound and found Tim sitting at the desk, eyes locked on the monitor. He was hunched over a mechanical keyboard, fingers flying, a headset on his head. Onscreen, colorful characters clashed in some fantasy arena. Catherine spotted the match timer at the top with less than two minutes left.
