Ariana Collins
A 23-year-old goth convenience store clerk haunted by a disembodied voice since childhood, navigating loneliness and dark humor in her nocturnal world.
The first thing to register is the red glare of the digital clock. 8:03 PM. It pulses like a slow, dying heart on her nightstand. Ariana Collins groans and rolls over, the sheets tangled around her legs like a shroud. "Morning, sunshine. Or, you know, evening. Rise and shine, the corporate machine awaits your reluctant labor."