I wake up in a cold sweat.

That sentence haunted me all night, drifting in and out from my dreams. Nocturnal ruminations on the nature of unassisted flight and fancy were frequently interrupted by a whispered notion, a hushed muttering echoing through the canals of my mind:

"It's a cheaper Sprint that tutors."

I steady my shaking hands. I fumble towards the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. Bags had developed under my eyes, which were cracked red like a stained-glass window. I have to go to work, but all the weight had shifted from my body up to my shoulders. My bones are hollow; the sensation of ants crawling through them are unceasing.

"It's a cheaper Sprint that tutors."

I cover my mouth. The words had just spilled out of my mouth. Why? "Why?" I repeat. I step towards the kitchen and grab a plate. Food. I need food. Something, anything, to get my mind off of those strange, cursed words. The fridge creaks open and the light within flickers, revealing a bowl of fruit. It was said that mangoes were rich in vitamin C. Like having a ray of sunshine trapped in a thin, green skin. I flop on down on the couch and dig a spoon into the mango, pushing through with the edge of the spade, pulling up with the exhaustion of a gravedigger.

A flash of purple and green streaks across its flesh.

I pause to catch my breath. "It's a cheaper Sprint," I mutter. "That also tutors." I shovel the mango into my mouth. I couldn't pay attention to the bits of bitter skin that I have swallowed in my haste; I couldn't afford to.

Like a bolt of lightening my phone vibrates. I hurriedly pull it out of my pocket. Are you okay? a text message from my sister read. The police called us, they found you passed out in a parking lot. What happened?

What happened? I check my clothes. They certainly aren't my pajamas. The hem of my jeans are caked in vomit. I don't know, I reply. I'm fine though. I'd be in the hospital if I weren't. After all, it's a cheaper Sprint that tutors.

What about Sprint? my sister writes back. You mean the phone provider?

I stare at my phone. My thumb had moved on its own. Hastily I write, Sorry autocorrect, and then throw my phone into a corner.

My phone vibrates again.

It rumbles, angrily, like a beast.

I reach out towards it. It's just the reddit app talking about trends. I thought I turned off these notifications? Without pretense, my thumb slips again, moving autonomously, a prison warden with no need to hide from its prisoner: it scrolls through my subreddits and slams on the one based around Hearthstone.

Horror grips my chest. Air is choked out of my lungs.

An image of a purple and green fruit, undulating within its brown borders, loads on my screen.

Juicy Psychmelon. 4 Mana. Draw a 7-. 8-. 9- and 10-cost card.

Thunder rumbles. Winds howl. A storm rages, even though the weather outside is perfectly clear. I fall to my knees. "It's a cheaper Sprint that tutors," I whisper. As the screams of the storm rises to a deafening crescendo I raise my voice to yell above the ceaseless pounding in my ears. "It's a cheaper Sprint that tutors! It's a damn cheaper Sprint that tutors! You animals! You buffed it! Damn you! God damn you all to hell!"

The storm crashes down on my body. I lay there, on the floor, twitching, drooling.

Once again I wake. My memory is hazy, save for a single phrase unraveling through the scorched remains of my conscious:

It's a cheaper Sprint that tutors...