An alarm hammered the air. 

It was Des’s phone. Someone at the next table looked up.

“Shit,” he hissed. He pried it out of his pocket and turned it off. “Sorry.”

He didn’t think he’d gotten any new texts, but the last oyster cracker in his soup was already mostly dissolved and the French vanilla creamer had formed a skin on his coffee. He stirred it back in while he scrolled through his notifications.

It was the same three he’d had all week. His mom, How are you? Pearl, a link. HR, his W-2. He was about to reset his alarm when his phone buzzed again.

Arkansas area code. They were always Arkansas area codes.

Forward This text to SIX! Friends ❤️ Within twenty-Four Hours ⏱️. Or You Will die! 🫨

He’d been so close.

“Fuck,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Another text came through from the same number. 

Thank You.

Des took a sip of his coffee. The skin wasn’t all the way dissolved yet.

Sol was chasing the last shred of cole slaw around his plate with his fork. “ ‘Sup?”

Des copied both texts, just to be safe, and hit “send.” “Check the group chat before this time tomorrow.”

Sol’s phone dinged. 

Des winced. He’d forgotten Sol left it off silent.

Ice clicked when Sol pushed away his blue plastic Pepsi cup. He set his phone down in the circle of condensation it left on the table and unlocked it. He was still using the Motorola default wallpaper.

“You should de-list your number,” he said.

“I tried that.”

“It worked for me.”

“I know.” Des leaned against the window so he could jam his phone in his back pocket. “I swear to God one of these days I’m just going to stop forwarding them.”

“Mm.” Sol took a drag from his straw. It rattled.

Des’s phone buzzed again. “Was that you?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it’s probably fine.”

Sol was poking the straw around the bottom of the cup, hunting for more soda.

“Viruses get less lethal over time, right?” Des said.

Sol hooked his jaw on his palm. “Maybe only if they’re from this dimension.”

“But how would you know?”

“You’d have to wait and see if the viruses from other dimensions get less lethal.”

Des took another drink of his coffee. The vanilla creamer didn’t stick to his teeth this time. He realized he’d forgotten to reset his alarm.