A young woman lies beneath a glass coffee table in a dim living room lit entirely by flickering TV static and the rotating LEDs of a novelty lamp. Her cheek is pressed against the stained carpet, strands of hair lit electric blue and red from opposite directions. A spilled jar of maraschino cherries soaks into a stack of overdue mail beside her. The table legs distort her reflection into spirals. The walls are covered in faded floral wallpaper, but in the corners, rainbow light blooms like a film burn. She holds a remote in one hand, pointed nowhere, her other hand reaching toward a slowly spinning disco ball on the ceiling.