This screensaver, which now has a whole sub-plot-arc-thing about it:
âAlright. A promise is a promise.â I free the frozen phone from my pants pocket and warm the glass against my cheek until it becomes responsive. The lock screen still glitches twice, refusing to acknowledge my password, and I wait for it to reset, staring at the ugly picture of himself that Kattar set as my lock screen a few months ago, when I was stupid enough to fall asleep with my phone unlocked.
He has his hair pulled up into a messy cross between a bun and a ponytail, his teeth bared like a hissing house cat. I can see myself in the background, my head propped up on the arm of the sofa - the shadow of my hair giving me the illusion of a neckbeard.
Kattar has asked me a thousand times why I havenât changed this screensaver yet. And Iâll hem-and-haw, say he got me fair and square, so Iâll suffer the prank until the turn of the year, but the truth is, the picture isnât half as ugly as he thinks.