[Scene: Late Morning – New Apartment, Air Heavy and Still]
The Florida heat had arrived early, thick and oppressive like a damp towel wrapped around the sky. Even with the fan roaring on high, the air inside the apartment barely moved—just shifted in place, warm and stale. The concrete outside shimmered, a visible haze rising off it, as if the world itself were sweating.
Oliver sat shirtless on the floor in front of the fan, legs stretched out, phone in hand. His fingers scrolled slowly through TikTok, his face glazed with sweat and disinterest.
The algorithm fed him the usual.
> TikTok Voiceover
"It's June 2025, and I've sent out over 700 applications. No interviews. No callbacks. Degree? Useless. Experience? Doesn't matter. This job market is a graveyard."
Cut to someone burning their resume in a frying pan.
Cut to someone crying in their car.
Cut to someone joking—but not really—about working three jobs and still being behind on rent.
Oliver's thumb paused briefly over the video. Then he scrolled.
Next came a protest livestream in D.C.—dozens of people marching through the street, holding signs, sweating in the heat.
> Livestream Host
"Protesters continue to gather outside the Capitol, demanding President Trump step down after the new tariff expansion. Police are stationed at every corner. Tear gas was used last night."
He scrolled again.
A news update:
> Anchor Voice
"A 3-day ceasefire has been agreed upon between Russia and Ukraine after nearly a month of escalated shelling near Kharkiv. Reports say the truce remains 'fragile,' with NATO urging both sides to de-escalate further."
Another swipe.
A breaking headline from the Middle East:
> News Voiceover
"Tensions rise as Israel launches a missile strike into Iranian territory, targeting what officials claim was a weapons depot. Iranian officials have condemned the attack and warned of retaliation. The U.N. has called an emergency session."
The TikTok stitched the news report with someone sighing dramatically, laying on the floor, face in a fan, surrounded by empty coffee cups and open bills.
> TikTok Caption:
"So basically... the world's on fire and I'm unemployed with $60 in my account."
Oliver stared at the screen for a long moment.
The fan kept humming.
Sweat dripped slowly down his back.
A distant dog barked.
Somewhere outside, a lawnmower groaned uselessly against dry grass.
Oliver locked his phone.
Set it face down on the warm floor.
And leaned his head back, eyes closed.
Nothing new.
Just another burning day in a burning timeline.
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[Scene: Afternoon – Apartment, Fan Whirring, Phone Buzzing]
The sun was burning through the cheap blinds now, leaving long white streaks of heat across the cracked tile floor. Oliver lay sprawled on the mattress again, box fan aimed directly at his face, pushing hot air that barely felt like relief. The fabric beneath him was damp with sweat, his shirt tossed somewhere in the corner.
His phone buzzed once—then again, longer. A call.
He reached for it slowly, ribs aching with the movement. The screen lit up:
"Evan (Little Brother)"
He sighed, then tapped Accept, holding the phone up to his ear, too tired to sit up.
> EVAN (on phone)
"Yo. You good?"
OLIVER
(dryly)
"Define 'good.'"
> EVAN
"Dude… I'm trying to be chill, but come on. You've been in that place for two weeks and haven't applied anywhere."
Oliver shifted a little, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.
OLIVER
"I have. Sent a few out yesterday."
> EVAN
"Yeah? Where?"
OLIVER
"...Tried the grocery store down on Gulf View. The app crashed."
> EVAN
(sigh)
"Ollie, you gotta stop just… drifting, man. Apply in person if you have to. Gas up and go. I don't care if it's a diner or a car wash or a liquor store. Something. Anything."
Oliver didn't answer for a second. He stared up at the ceiling, where a mosquito was caught between the fan's breeze and the heat.
OLIVER
"I'll do it tomorrow."
> EVAN
"You've said that every day this week."
OLIVER
"I know."
> EVAN
(softer)
"I'm not trying to be a dick, man. But Mom and Dad can't float you forever. That fan you're using? That was Dad's from the garage. And I'm the one who paid your phone bill last month."
Oliver rubbed his eyes. His stomach grumbled faintly. He hadn't eaten since the cold pizza earlier.
OLIVER
"I get it."
> EVAN
"...Do you?"
Silence on the line. The fan kept droning.
OLIVER
"I'll look tomorrow. Seriously."
> EVAN
(sighs)
"Alright. Call me if you need anything. Just… don't vanish again."
OLIVER
"Yeah."
He hung up. Let the phone rest on his chest.
Tomorrow.
Again.
The fan buzzed, louder now, as if reminding him even the machine was tired.
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