Ashley's furniture store bedroom sets

Hi all, I have a functional part I am printing. I was originally doing it in ABS and all was well. I switched to transparent PETG so I could see the status LED of the board inside and the first couple of prints came out perfect just using the default settings for PETG in the 3D45.
After a couple of weeks, I went to do another run. Same model same settings. After the first few layers I noticed the support structure was shaggy and blobby on the bed and I was getting brown blobs of filament intermittently. After about a dozen layers the filament started grinding and it stopped extruding.
I thought maybe the filament was wet. I threw it in my dryer at 50 C for 10 hours. The next run was a little better. I got about 20 layers in before the same problem occurred. Lots of brown blobs, then the filament ground. I reduced retraction speed, reduced print speed, tried more drying. I even replaced the nozzle with one of the swiss plated ones to try to reduce friction because I noticed the filament was curling upward when it came out of the nozzle. Nothing changed. I thought maybe the filament was UV damaged but i stored it in an opaque bag. Any thoughts? I ordered a new spool to try just throwing money at the problem but it has not come in yet.

Like i can either have it set on normal am/fm radio or be able to pick a mp3 that i moved to it to play. Stored on the radio itself, not when theres a cable connecting it to another device with the mp3s.

So, I purchased Street Fighter 6, and had to put it on the lowest graphics settings to have the cutscenes not stutter. However, since I’ve never played the game before and am just playing single-player, I can’t tell if the game is running properly or not and I’m worried I’ll play it too long before finding out my machine isn’t good enough for this game.
My machines specs are as follows: Intel Core i7-7700HQ CPU 16 GB RAM NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1050 Ti
The store page says the minimum requirement for the graphics card is a GTX1060, so I guess that means I don’t meet minimum specs, right?

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark, when out of the blue, my wife called me at work. "We're going to Niagara Falls for the weekend. I got us an awesome deal!"
We had both been working at our first "full-fledged" jobs for a year and had reached that moment after graduation when you suddenly realize you can't make that impact on the world your student enthusiasm once promised. At first, I just sighed. It was the dead of January, and I had already expended all my energy on a week of inconsequential stress. I just wanted to collapse on the couch for two days. Sarah felt a similar weary exhaustion. I could tell. Her tone was more hopeful than excited, but she had dreaded the routine we were sinking into and was trying her best to pull us free.
I looked to the ceiling and adjusted my telephone headset. At that time I was working at Stats Canada on the tele-query desk. I took a deep breath and, as convincingly as possible, said, "Sounds good." I don't think she bought it, but we went nonetheless.
This was Niagara Falls before the casinos when there was a very distinct off-season. When we got to the hotel, we were given the details of our "lovers' special". One dinner to be used either Friday or Saturday, two breakfasts, a roll of tokens for the arcade, 10% off some "4D" movie ride experience, and a 2-for-1 coupon to Max Tussaud's. I guessed it was Madame's nephew? We also got a bottle of sparkling wine in our room and chocolate treats on our pillows. I was impressed. It sounded good.
When we got into our room and saw the "bottle" of wine - basically an aeroplane-sized glass and half - and the chocolates - "fun wrapped" Oh Henry's left over from Halloween - we both started to laugh. The tone for two wonderful days had been set. We decided to cash in on our dinner coupon right away.
The restaurant off the lobby had hopes of being better. There were huge panoramic windows that promised a view of the gorge. Unfortunately, they had some winter moisture problems that day, and it felt like we were defrosting amid the dripping streaks and foggy patches. The decor was your standard booths and tables though the "romantic" lighting was unique. Dollar store battery-powered tea lights were lodged inside thick tumbler glasses and shed a muted pleasantness in a "what a great idea for a craft" sort of way. I had a feeling they were created by our waitress since she was the one who always seemed to be fussing with them. Only one other couple was in the dining room, so she attended to us immediately.
"Can I get you something to start?"
"Sure." "Thank you, that would be nice." We both responded simultaneously.
"And what would the lady like this evening?"
Sarah smiled at the flattery. "I think I'll have a glass of white wine." She glanced over at me to see my reaction. This was a subtle cue of the mood to follow. Diet Coke was usually the beverage of choice. She didn't normally drink alcohol. One glass numbed her nose and made her giggle far too easily. When she did drink, however, it meant she was comfortable with my company and open to anything to follow. I raised my eyebrows in a debonair way.
"And for the gentleman?"
"Do you have Foster's on tap?"
"Yes we do."
"I'll have a pint please."
Sarah smiled at the happy memories I invoked. At university, Foster's was my signature beer. It was at a time when Crocodile Dundee was a known name, and Australia was inexplicably cool. 15 cent buffalo wings and a pitcher of Foster's was the Tuesday night special at the London Arms pub. There the Classics Club would meet and, as a group, circle the wagons and drink ourselves into extroverts.
As soon as the waitress left, Sarah smiled at me. She reached out and held my hand across the table. With my gaze on hers, she slipped her foot from her shoe and slowly began sliding it up my pant leg.
"I got a pedicure this morning." She announced seductively.
I nodded and pretended I didn't notice her invitation. "What colour?" I asked.
"I'm not telling." She teased. "You'll just have to find out later." Her devious little smile was gorgeous.
"Mmmm. I can't wait."
When the waitress returned with our drinks, we immediately retreated to our personal spaces as if we had been discovered by the chaperone. Sarah opened the menu and began to salivate at the variety.
"Can we add an appetizer to the package dinner?" Her question seemed innocent enough.
"You're on the package?" Our friendly waitress disappeared, and we were no longer a lady or a gentleman. She ripped the menu out of Sarah's hand and took mine before I had even opened it. She then scurried to her podium and brought back a tattered, grease-stained, photocopied page that we had to share. We both burst out laughing.
The waitress was flustered that we were not as bothered as she was. "The drinks are NOT included!"
"What choices do we have?" I asked, expecting the usual chicken or fish. I had been on many packages before with my parents.
"Coffee or tea." The waitress snapped.
Sarah and I looked at each other in amused disbelief.
"I'll have coffee please." I didn't even flinch at the ridiculously limited package. I was eager to get my order in early.
"And I'll have the tea!" Sarah followed my lead. "Can I have some milk with that?"
"Yes." The waitress snarled.
"Fantastic!" I enthused.
"Yes, great! I'm glad we got the package, Honey." Sarah joked.
The waitress stormed off and returned sometime later with our lettuce-only salads drowned in Kraft's Italian dressing and our chewy chicken dinners, which she had thoughtfully allowed to cool. She tossed the plates on the table and left us to peacefully devour our deal. We didn't see her again until we requested the bill. For some reason, we found it amusing to leave a generous tip, which of course, defeated the purpose of the package, but we didn't care. It was fun.
The rest of the holiday was marred with similar off-season products and services. The wax museum was only half open, so we couldn't see the pop stars of the seventies. I didn't think it was a problem, but Sarah pouted playfully. She really wanted to see young Bowie. Meanwhile, the arcade was particularly stingy about spitting out coupons. So much so that Mike, the scraggly-haired repair guy, ended up escorting us from game to game and repairing the devices on demand. In no time, he was acting like an old drinking buddy. He joked and laughed, then, out of the blue, revealed that working at the Niagara Falls Fun Centre wasn't his career choice, that his dream was to be part of a travelling carnival. He desperately wanted to see more of the world, he explained and socialize with a greater variety of "wildlife." Mike winked at Sarah to punctuate his meaning, then began advising her on which games to play.
Sarah was partial to Skee ball and clearly had career potential in the sport, but Mike quickly pointed out that the token-to-coupon payout was not the best. In a furtive whisper, he revealed that The Storm Stopper was your best bet, provided the arcade had left it on its original factory settings. He assured us the ones here were "cool." The game had lights that ran around the outside in opposite directions and you had to hit the button at just the right spot to win. It looked impossible, but Mike was right; if you calculated tokens in versus coupons won, it was the best deal. It only took a little practice to win a minor jackpot every 5 or 6 times.
We would cheer each win as if Toronto had won the Stanley Cup. I would give a quick fist pump and a full lung "Yes!" while Sarah would jump up and down screaming, "WhoooHooo!" Of course, in the end, when we cashed in, "Mike's secret" only bumped us up from a key-chain flashlight to a "deluxe" nail beauty set. Mind you, it did come complete with clippers, scissors, a file AND a cuticle scraper. Not only that, it was all neatly packaged in a paisley-patterned pink and green plastic vinyl case. Mike was so pleased to give us our prize and to be honest, we were thrilled to win it if only to see his broad chicletted smile. It was more of a trophy than a grooming set.
That night, I made reservations for us at a fancy Chinese food restaurant - the Bamboo Garden. When we arrived, we had half-expected renovations of some sort. Instead, the place was immaculate. Gentle pools teeming with goldfish highlighted the epic black and red Ming dynasty decor. Real candles flickered on crisp white tablecloths. Again, the restaurant was virtually ours. The reservations on my part were entirely unnecessary. In fact, as soon as we entered, they knew us by name and guided us directly to our table. A live lounge piano caressed the air, its notes danced vaguely around familiar harmonies until finally, as if prompted by our presence, a song emerged immediately accompanied by the velvet voice of oriental karaoke. It was our song remastered

I (43F) share a two bedroom apartmemt with my roommate (29M). We have been best friends for years. This the 4th year we have lived in the apartment and he recently got into a serious relationship. I suffer from BPD, PTSD, ADHD, anxiety and depression. I can be alot i am aware. Over the years my roommate and I have had a few fights due to my mental illness. I am not perfect. We have always been able to have discussions that settle things and resolve the isses at hand. But since the gf discovered him and I had a past. She has demanded he tell her everything. Including when i have my episodes. I understand being in a relationship. You want to keep communication and have that need to vent. But she only knows his side. He refuses to let me explain my side. She unfairly hates me as a result. Recently she came to spend time with him. I was unaware of her dislike of me. So when coming home from work that day. Was met with silence, no eye contact and a bolt to the door using my roommate as a shield, when i simply said hello. When i tried to inquire what that was about. I was told only after she left that she hates me for how i treat him. I again tried to offer to have things hashed out. He kept refusing saying she doesn't want to. Then a few days later told via text. That i disrespected the relationship because of telling him in a PRIVATE conversation between him and I that seeing them together drudged up old feelings I use to have. She told him that i "made a move on him" incorrect. I was being honest with him and talking out my thoughts and feelings like we always have done since we became friends years ago. I am frustrated because I told him. That if she cant be respeftful to me in my own apartment that i pay for. I am not comfortable having her there when i am home. He in no uncertain terms has told me thats too bad. Your feels dont count. She my gf. She can do what she wants. Which is going to set me off into a serious triggering spiral...if I can not feel safe in my own home. Without some girl being rude to me. I will confront her. I will end up saying things that she wont want to here. He refuses to empathize as my friend. Its to the point he actually is siding with her and is hostile towards me. Losing a friend is hard enough but losing them because her gf hates me when she doesn't even know me. Its gut wrenching. I cant afford to move and i dont have a license nor a car. My job is close enough i can walk if need be. But i am thankful for family who give me rides. I am about to get a raise and be promoted at my job. Even with the raise idk if I can afford that place on my own and other apartments in that town are way more expensive. I know he wants to move. He truly sees me as the devil and that hurts more than anything. What do I do?

Skinwalkers in Rural Michigan
I recently purchased a 10,000 lumen flashlight to illuminate the surrounding woods as I walk my dog in the evenings. I have been hearing some strange noises at night, and I figured it would be nice to see everything that boxes me in as I walk Max, my dog. But boy was I wrong. I should have been afraid of what can't be seen outside the veils of my iphone flashlight. What was to be exhumed by my flashlight terrified me to my core. This happened a week or so ago, November, 2nd 2022, Harrison Michigan. The evenings were approaching abruptly now. It was only 8:30pm when I decided to take my golden retriever on one last shit walk before I got settled in for the night. At this time, in rural Michigan at least, it’s pitch black. I cursed underneath my breath as I opened the door and peered out. Fuck, chilly and dark. God, why haven’t I moved south yet? Max was timid this evening, which was so really unlike him. Very strange. The darkness emanating from outside my house poured in like a disease. It was void of any color. Upset about not replacing my porch light, I pulled out my new amazon special, this week it was a 10,000 lumen flashlight. Feeling its expensive metallic body in my hands felt exonerating, and the excitement to use it overthrew any bad vibes Max was giving. He whimpered as soon as the door opened, he then put his tail between his legs and shivered. I scoffed at his weak tendencies here, this was so unlike him. I turned this ungodly bright flashlight on and showed it forward. “For fuck sake look Max, nothing to be afraid of y-” I was cut off. My mouth gaped at what was in front of me. Shown in the powerful beam of the flashlight was a contorted lanky humanoid figure. It slumped down from a standing position and got on all fours like a person miming a frog. Then it jerked its head up and sniffed the air. Animistically. It turned its head and bored its stare right into my eyes. Then it darted into a bush on the edge of the woods. The edge of the woods that surround my entire house. I heard leaves crackle and watched the skin colored creature dissipate into them. I focused the beam of my light directly onto that bush. It was incredibly bright and the bush appeared like high definition from the immense light, especially in contrast to the oily blackness that surrounded me. The bush shaked ominously, like a predator was inside, shifting around. A familiar feminine voice came from that bush. “Please help me… oh god please help… help… help mee…” And the leaves rustled again. Max whimpered in terror and got between my legs. I grabbed the baseball bat that I kept beside the front door for just such occasions and held it beside my head in a “ready to whoop” gesture, the other hand on my flashlight. I shakily started towards the bush from my door. Max bolted inside, leaving me completely alone. “Helllppppp meee” the voice cooed. The soft feminine coo of the voice crackled a little this time. Yeah, almost as if something was masquerading as a female, and luring me in. I was about 6 feet away by now, I could feel the blood pulsating in my temples. Goosh flesh ran down my body. “Helllpp,” deeper voice “Meeee!” An elongated ashy white arm flung towards me at ankle height. I instinctively stomped down on it. I heard cracking and sloshing from underneath my shoe. I stepped directly onto its wrist. I heard a shriek from inside the depths of that bush and the hand sprung up like a trap being set off. The strength possessed by this creature was unreal, it slung me to the ground and began to reel me into its bush where it resided. I screamed, smacked the arm with the bat as hard as I could and then lost control of the bat. It fell next to me as I was dragged closer to the bush, now my feet were inside the leafy abyss. The voice turned into my mothers voice. The clawed hands grasp on me tightened with tremendous strength and the nails dug into my skin through my pants. “Help me Nathaniel. Your mother needs help. I can't walk.” Yeah alright. I shined my light into the bush. What I saw still makes me tremble. It was my dead mothers face there alright, but atop an ashy white skinned humanoid skeleton with backward joints. The arms bent unnaturally opposite of how they should, the legs were bent like a frogs ready to pounce. The eyes were milky white, but were extremely intelligent and they gazed into my consciousness. With all of my force, I horse kicked my deceased mothers face and heard a massive crunch as my heel connected with her masqueraded nose. A profane yelp of pain blasted into the darkness of this B.F.E. where I lived. The grip on my leg loosened just enough from the blow for me to break free. I shot upright and turned to the door. I dropped my flashlight in this madness and couldn’t give a shit less. It could keep it for all I fucking cared. I bolted towards the door, and as I reached the halfway point I was Illuminated by a blinding bright light from behind. Almost like a spotlight beamed right onto me. My. Fucking. God. That thing had my flashlight and was pointing it directly at me. “Helpp… Nathaniel. Help me son.” The light started to bob up and down. Whatever was holding it was lurking closer and closer to me, and was gaining on me much faster than I was to the door. So much for not being able to walk. I ended up winning the foot race miraculously. I jumped inside my door and slammed it behind me. I heard a loud thump into the door immediately following its closure. My mothers late voice came again, beckoning me. “Son. You know your mother has taught you better than this. Let me in. Please, my son.” The light shone through the window at me, blinding me. Seeing spots and now disoriented, I fumbled myself up and managed to lock the door. Max was at the furthest point possible from the door, glaring at the door trembling in fear. Three solid knocks from the top of the door frame. Then the light was gone and I heard a metallic clunk, the thing must have dropped the flashlight on its retreat. The light now was gleaming off a huge tree. I watched a tall skinny humanoid creature with long contorted ligaments jerkily run towards that tree. His legs bent opposite of how our legs do, and same with the arms. Then it bent down in the same erratic way that it moved, and got onto all fours as it approached the tree. It paused a second and peered up the trunk. His head swiftly snapped to my face. Its now black and sunken eyes stared into my soul. I froze in terror as it climbed that trunk, with its face directly bored into me mind you, like squirrel. Scurrying right up it, never leaving contact with my eyes. The light undoubtedly should be blinding his vision, but the sense of intelligence of it knowing my existence was uncanny. Light didnt hurt it. As it ascended it smiled at me, a predatory grin. It disappeared into a purple dot that was still in my vision from when I was blinded by the flashlight. As I moved my head to try to see the creature, I watched tree leaves russell and saw no more of it. Yet. I locked the doors that night and cleaned up Max’s accidents from not going out. At night as I was asleep, I was awoken by my mothers soft voice from right outside the bedroom window. “Let me in Nathaniel..” Then directly following this motherly imitation came a 10,000 lumen flashlight beamed into my face. I heard the window slowly open, but I was blinded by the light.

All That Glitters... is a thrilling and unique survival game set in a world ravaged by eldritch horrors. As a survivor, you find refuge in a jewelry store, harnessing the mysterious power of the resonating gems to protect your sanctuary. Scavenge for supplies, manage your resources and lead a diverse group of survivors through the harrowing challenges of each day.
But beware, for the eldritch forces are relentless. Every week, you must face their wrath in intense elder raids, testing your strategic planning and fortitude. Will you and your allies withstand the onslaught, or will the barriers crumble under the relentless assault?
Uncover the secrets of the gems and their connection to the eldritch beings as you navigate a morally grey world where choices have consequences. Will you be a fierce leader, ruling through intimidation, or a paragon of mercy, solving disputes with compassion? Discover hidden lore, encounter unique characters, and forge unlikely alliances.
With a rich crafting system, build traps and weapons to defend your sanctuary and venture out on scavenging missions. Encounter the enigmatic Argus and Astra, who may hold the key to your survival. But remember, resources are scarce, and every decision counts.
All That Glitters... offers a captivating blend of survival, strategy, and emergent storytelling. Will you find hope amidst the chaos, or succumb to the eldritch terrors? The choice is yours, survivor. Prepare to confront the darkness and unravel the mysteries of the shimmering gems in this gripping post-apocalyptic adventure.
Key Features: Survive the Eldritch Invasion: Face off against eldritch monsters as you and a group of survivors hold up in a jewelry store. Use your wits, skills, and resources to endure the onslaught. Scavenging and Resource Management: Explore the world outside the jewelry store, scavenge for supplies, and manage your resources wisely. Every decision counts as you balance your needs for food, water, ammunition, and more. Gem-based Barrier: Discover the mysterious power of the gems within the jewelry store. These gems form a protective barrier against the eldritch energy, but they require regular care and maintenance to remain effective. Survivor Management: Lead and manage a group of diverse survivors, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. Build relationships, resolve conflicts, and make tough decisions to ensure their well-being and survival. Strategic Trap and Weapon Building: Construct and deploy a variety of traps and weapons to defend the jewelry store from incoming monsters. Upgrade your arsenal, customize your gear, and adapt to different enemy types and encounters. Dynamic Week System: Experience the passage of time through a dynamic week system. Each day brings new challenges, events, and opportunities. Manage your time wisely and prepare for the weekly elder raids, where the jewelry store faces its most dangerous threats. Encounter Mysterious Characters: Meet the enigmatic Argus and Astra during your journey. Uncover their connection to you and unlock their unique offerings, including traps, weapons, medicine, and valuable resources. Engage in challenges to earn even greater rewards. Meaningful Choices and Consequences: Navigate a morally ambiguous world where choices don't always have clear-cut good or bad outcomes. Your decisions and actions will shape the story, affect relationships with survivors, and influence the ultimate fate of the jewelry store. Rich Lore and Hidden Secrets: Unearth the deep lore of the game's world through hidden clues, conversations, and encounters. Discover the truth behind the invasion, the origins of the eldritch creatures, and the mystery surrounding your own connection to Argus and Astra. Achievements and Replayability: Earn a wide range of achievements as you progress through the game, each with its own unique humor and challenge. Unlock new game+ mode for increased replayability, allowing you to carry over certain progress and face even greater challenges.

Hey everyone, I'm having some issues with my 13 pro max. I noticed around two hours ago that it kept shutting down randomly and doing a boot loop. Every now and then it would go back to the home screen, behave normally and then shutdown and go through the boot loop again. I set it to restore mode and tried to restore it through my MacBook. It keeps giving me an error code, 4013, whenever I try to reset or update it. I think the error code is coming from it shutting down when the restore/update process is underway.
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I'm not entirely sure why this happened, but I made an appointment with the Apple Store on Sunday to get this checked. I wanted to ask if anyone had any experience with this and how I would go about solving it normally at home. Also, will AppleCare cover this since it seems to be some sort of hardware or software failure?

Okay this may be a stupid question but it bothers me so I have to ask. How are the bins under the register set up at your store? At my store it goes non sellable bin on the outside, return to inventory bin in the middle, and the trash can in the inside. I’ve started moving the trash can to the outside because costumers constantly throw trash and sometimes food in the non sellable bin thinking it’s a trash can. I noticed my manager moved the bins back after my shift so I asked him about it and he said it has to be the way it’s originally set up. I told him that the other petsmart a few miles away has theirs set up with the trash cans on the outside and he told me they aren’t suppose to have it that way. So does it say somewhere what order these are suppose to be in? Tbh it seems like a stupid rule but I don’t wanna get in trouble if I continue to switch them.

So after a bit of waiting we finally got my second set of chemical treatment for my apartment completed after a resurgence in bed bugs (our first problem came around September of last year) and by mistake, or rather not thinking too into it, we mopped the floors of our bedrooms with pine sol when we were able to return home as the smell was too much for us. Looking back at the instructions they gave us in an email a long time ago not mopping for a week was the very last thing stated, but not one of the ones bolded; I hope it's not too much of an issue! I see online that some sites say just not to mop within 4 inches of the walls, which we did not do.
How screwed are we?
I have bedlam plus and crossfire ordered now because I'm freaking out and they're coming Sunday and Monday, respectively. The treatment company my building provides doesn't open until Sunday. Should I give them a call then? My family members refuse to have to leave the house another time (we also have one that's difficult to take out for long periods), can we avoid this? They did drill into the walls and stuff along with spray all of our furniture, should that be fine along with the bedlam/crossfire?
I apologize if this comes across as ramble-y, I'm just panicking right now. We were never told directly not to mop or anything so I'm hoping this is fine.

I'm looking for somebody who might have some experience using the Bosch divar network 5000. I've got a short window where I can get my hands on one for about $100. I've done some googling but really haven't found much, and I'm considering that as a red flag to maybe steer clear of the divar.
The Bosch divar network 5000 16 POE+ ports and 4 TB of NVR storage.
My use case is to install 4 to 6 POE IP cameras streaming to a self-hosted ( no cloud or non-VPN external streaming) storage. I would only need to store up to 2 days of video, and not at 4K resolution. I haven't purchased any cameras either, I'm planning on getting those next.
My network consists of two asus rt-ac86u's. If I don't get this Bosch divar, I was considering getting an 8 port POE switch and setting up a VLAN, using my true NAS as storage.
below is the only resource sheet I could find: https://resources-boschsecurity-cdn.azureedge.net/public/documents/DIVAR_network_5000_Data_sheet_enUS_24101310219.pdf
Any thoughts opinions or other comments are welcome.

I (25f) have been living with my friend, Kate (32f) for about 2 and 1/2 years now. Kate owns the home that me, her boyfriend, and another friend live in together. It's something like an artist residency on a 73 acre piece of land inclusive of a 5-bedroom house and a separate garage that we have renovated. Shortly after I moved in, Kate and her then husband began the process of getting a divorce after a traumatic event occurred deeply impacted each of us living there. Kate has struggled with her divorce, and I have struggled because of the impact of the event. Either way, we became incredibly close, and we worked to rebuild this home and land into what she/we had always dreamed of. I've spent thousands of dollars on new furniture, rugs, desks, etc., which was entirely my choice and never an ask of Kate, but I did it for the sake of our "community" and to help fulfill the dream of what this house and land could become. For the past 6 months, Kate and my relationship has felt off. The closeness we had, which in part was due to the aforementioned traumatic event, dissipated somewhat rapidly. I didn't know why, but I could feel it happening. While traveling in mid-May, I received an email from Kate that explained she was moving into a new era and wanted to know what her home felt like without others living in it. She stated that she would like me to leave by the end of July. She sent a similar email to the other person living in our home. Luckily, I was accepted to a grad program four days after her email. Otherwise, I wouldn't have anywhere to go.
Once I returned to the house, we had a conversation about the email. I said I wished we could have initially talked about this in person, and that a 2 month deadline felt inconsiderate. I expressed that 2 months is a short amount of time to be able to pack, find somewhere new to live, etc, especially bc my finances aren't great atm. I began to say, "I know that isn't your..." At which point, she interrupted and finished the phrase saying, "That isn't my responsibility!" Which, of course, I know. Aren't we responsible to our friends in some capacity though? Shouldn't we try to consider their circumstances? I guess I just expected her to consider or even ask about my circumstances since we are friends who've been living together 2 and 1/2 years. When I said this to her, she responded saying that she's been asking about my future plans for years. It is true that she has asked me about my life plans in past years, but she certainly hasn't recently, since the distance between us became noticeable. Which is why she didn't know that I had even applied to a grad program. I understand that this is Kate's home, and she has every right to give me a deadline to leave. I don't think her boundaries with her ex husband were ever genuinely respected, so I think now she's trying to overcompensate by aggressively enforcing them. I guess I feel like I'm the asshole for being upset with / disappointed in her, but I don't know.

Hello, fellow cosmic voyagers of the Reddit Universe,
Today, I'm thrilled to roll out the red carpet for Coje, a visionary C++ CMake project that's been my labor of love for over a year. Standing at the edge of an exhilarating journey, Coje is ready to set sail into the endless seas of coding. 🚀🌌💻
Coje isn't just a project; it's a grand dream that's now on the launch pad, all set to form an exclusive, compact, and private team of dedicated trailblazers. Here's your golden ticket to join this exciting journey at its nascent stage and help steer this ship towards groundbreaking horizons. 🎟️🛠️🌈
Anchoring Coje is an array of custom modules, each a pillar supporting this cosmic voyage. The journey ignited with a templated memory manager 🧠, a program bootstrapper for seamless argument parsing 🗂️, a dynamic templated vector and map 📈, a unicode string that speaks the language of the world 🌐, and an abstract socket for efficient TCP/UDP networking 🌐. CTest and CPack support are the trusty co-pilots, ensuring a smooth, end-to-end testing and packaging experience. 🛠️💼
As time took flight, Coje evolved, expanding its wings to embrace new modules such as a regular expression module 🔍, a graphics rendering pipeline 🖼️, an audio pipeline 🎶, a fortified HTTPS server 🛡️, and an HTML/CSS/JS renderer 🌈. These modules, although in the early stages of development, stand as a testament to the incredible potential Coje is wired with.
Coje's vision is to metamorphose into a comprehensive library/bootstrapper, a toolbox with all you need for building and distributing cross-platform games, apps, and tools 🎮📱💻. Already fluent in Ubuntu Linux and Android (via the NDK), Coje dreams of conversing with Windows, Mac, and iOS in the near future.
Coje's prowess is etched in the diverse projects already built using it. From a command-line hash generatovalidator 🔒 to a command-line HTTP requester 🌐, to the initial sketches of a game 🕹️, each project narrates a tale of Coje's versatility and potential.
I extend an open invitation to developers, designers, and artists eager to join this private, exclusive team. Let's together shape Coje's journey, enhance the user experience 🎨, and compose immersive sound effects and music 🎵. While there may not be immediate gold at the end of the rainbow, the prospect of launching games, apps, and tools on platforms like the App Store and Steam offer a tantalizing glimpse into possible future returns. 💰🌈
Are you geared up to be part of this thrilling expedition? If you're excited to contribute to Coje and leave a lasting legacy in the coding cosmos, I can't wait to hear from you! We'll conquer challenges using Discord for direct communication and GitHub for efficient feature/bug tracking.
If this exciting opportunity sparks a flame within you and you're interested in being part of a unique, private team, don't hesitate to drop a DM. Let's join forces to make a supernova-sized impact in the coding universe with Coje! 🚀💫🌈

I’m an evening manager for a store in NC and it is without a doubt the easiest $23/hr that I’ve ever made in my life. I’ve been doing the job for about 4 months and I’m blown away. I feel like my only real responsibilities are making sure the QA does their job, setting the alarms, doing fresh department checkouts, and then locking the doors at night. My store is very low volume but still it’s just incredibly easy and low stress. Does anybody else feel like that? I do the ad change for endcaps every Tuesday but that feels like my only project day unless my SM or ASM has a special request.

I’ve been waiting to talk about this. I’ve been looking for others with similar experiences, or… I dunno. Maybe I hoped I was insane. Months have passed, and I still don’t have the slightest idea what to believe. But no matter what is true and what isn’t, the memory of what happened to me is as true as can be.
And every time I put my hand to a door, I tremble.
​
I was looking for a house in the surrounding area. I know, being a homeowner at 27 seems like a dream. I know I’ve been fortunate. Even so, I wanted something remote, spacious, and comparably cheap.
I’d been looking for something nearby, but everything even close to a larger city quickly ran out of my price range. It wasn’t until I started looking at the rural outskirts that I started to see something realistic.
I’d been to four open house showings in the past week when I came across an ad that looked too good to be true. Another open house, but this one was just perfect. Apparently, they were looking to make a quick sale after a previous deal had fallen through.
​
I made my way to a small nearby town called Tomskog. There was a little billboard with a blue sunflower greeting me, and I took a hard right down a street named “Sunplenty Road”. There were only five houses there, and the one I came to look at was at the far end. Even from a distance, I could tell I wasn’t the only visitor.
I parked on the street outside and took in the sights. There was an “Open House” sign outside, again with the sunflower logo. There was a separate garage, and the house itself was smaller than expected. Homely, but small.
I was greeted by a cheerful man. He had thick glasses, a receding hairline, and the kind of “fun uncle” smile that told me he could get away with anything.
“Come on in,” he said. “You’re gonna love it.”
​
There was me, the realtor, and three other people. A middle-aged couple, and a younger woman. She had this messy black hair that kept poking her in the eye. Even at a glance I could tell the young woman was distraught. She wasn’t even looking around the house, she seemed more interested in the people wandering about.
The house had a simple and open layout. The bottom floor had a bathroom, a separate study room, an adjoining kitchen, and a lounge area. There were stairs leading to a sort of catwalk on the second floor, making the main room wide open. The second floor had another bathroom, a bedroom, and a guest room.
It had this sort of sullen 70’s vibe with grey and white flower-patterned wallpaper. There were little scuffs and tears pretty much everywhere, but the house itself seemed… fine.
​
The realtor, Anders, showed me all the details of the kitchen. He assured me that most of the appliances were to be replaced before the next homeowner moved in, and proudly displayed the new garbage disposal. It was a nice enough setup, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the young woman standing outside the study. I got the feeling that she was standing guard.
As the middle-aged couple walked downstairs, they asked her they could have a look.
“No,” she answered, with a shrug. “You can’t.”
“Don’t mind her,” Anders the realtor smiled. “Of course you can.”
“No,” she insisted. “They can’t.”
Anders walked up to her and leaned in. His demeanor shifted. They argued back and forth, and I could hear her repeat, over and over;
“This is not what we agreed to.”
​
The middle-aged couple and I just looked at one another. While the realtor and the young woman argued, we introduced ourselves. I smiled and gave them my name. They were named Helen and Sebastian, or ‘Seb’ for short. Typical midwestern salt-of-the-earth kind of people. They were suffering from an empty nest and seemed to want a place to start over. They made no secret about being interested in the place, although Helen wasn’t sure about having no direct access to the garage. Seb, on the other hand, wasn’t sure about the soil. He wanted a proper garden, and the soil seemed ill-fit to sustain greenery.
“Still,” Helen smiled. “Best place we’ve seen so far.”
“Sure is,” added Seb, giving Helen a little shake.
​
Anders kept arguing with the young woman. I could overhear her name as Whitney, and she was not willing to cooperate. Finally, Anders just pushed past her, putting his keys in the lock.
“Right this way, we’ll just take a quick peek.”
“We’re not done in there,” she said. “You can’t just-“
“It was supposed to be packed up, Whitney. I can’t help that you’re late.”
“That’s not… please. Give me an hour.”
“You’ve had plenty of hours.”
He clicked the door open and pushed it in. The three of us gave Whitney an apologetic look as we stepped inside.
​
The study was a mess. Old clothes strewn across various furniture, loose papers and books haphazardly thrown across a musky desk. An entire wall of bookshelves full of textbooks, ranging from discrete mathematics to philosophical physics. I stood there for a few seconds, taking it all in. Whitney pushed past us, grabbing an empty box from the floor.
“Don’t touch anything,” she sighed. “Just… look at it, and leave.”
Anders leaned over to us, lowering his voice.
“You have to excuse her,” he whispered. “There were some… complications, with the former owner.”
“Oh, she’s… the, uh, the daughter?” Seb asked.
Anders nodded.
​
While Anders told us about the east-facing windows and the top-of-the-line air conditioning system, I couldn’t help but to keep my eyes on Whitney. She was rummaging through the desk, dropping mementos, pictures, and notebooks into one of her many cardboard boxes. I could tell she was sleep deprived. She kept yawning.
Helen seemed eager to just leave Whitney to her grieving, while Seb kept to the practical details. He checked the hardwood floor, the insulation on the windows, the wall linings for pests. At one point, he almost knocked over a coffee table, and Whitney came running. She caught a vase that was about to topple off the table.
“Don’t… don’t touch anything!” she cried out. “Just… if you have to be here, stay… stay still!”
“I’m, uh… sorry,” Seb said. “I was just-“
“Just go over there!”
She waved her hands around, shaking the vase. There was a little rattle coming from it.
​
She shook it again, and I could see the color fade from her cheeks. Carefully, she tipped the vase, and something dark plopped into her hand.
A large bronze key.
Whitney pulled her hand back, letting the bronze key clatter to the floor. She covered her mouth, forgetting how to exhale. We just looked at her having what seemed, to us, like a mental breakdown.
“Nobody move,” she gasped. “Nobody… do anything.”
​
We all just stood there. Helen and Seb barely breathed, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of how still my feet were. Anders wasn’t impressed. If anything, he was fed up with this. He rolled his eyes, and picked up the key.
“Whitney, I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to wait outside.”
“Please, put… put that down.”
“You can put it with your things and take it outside.”
“Just… don’t move, you don’t know what you’re-“
Anders opened the door, stepped out of the study, and headed straight for the front door. Whitney dropped everything and ran after him. The rest of us followed suit.
“Wait!” she called out. “Please wait!”
​
As soon as Anders put his hand on the front door, Whitney stopped dead in her tracks.
“Anders, please, I’m sorry,” she said. “Just step away. Give me the key. I’ll leave, I promise. I swear.”
“That’s enough of that.”
“No!”
​
He opened the door and took a step forward. The bronze key passed the threshold.
​
We’d all stepped into the main lounge by now, and I heard the door to the study slam shut. There was a sort of pressure shift, making the wind move through the main lounge. Every door in the house slid shut with a click. All except the front door, which was wide open.
But there was nothing there.
Not nothing as in no one standing there. No, nothing as in “a nothing”. Just a blank, black space.
A viscous fluid where sunlight ought to be.
Endless, abyssal, ocean.
​
I stared at it, mesmerized. The contrast of the bright sun coming in from the windows, bouncing off the ripples of this deep ocean doorway.
And there, in the dark, humanoids. Tall, elongated silhouettes.
Anders stepped back, but it was as if parts of him refused to move. His arms were locked in place, seemingly by an invisible force. And as he stepped back, something started pulling him in.
His limbs grew long and twisted. His knees bending and snapping at impossible angles. His scalp pulled backwards, the loose skin of his face revealing the bottom white of his eyes.
“He… help!”
It was all he managed to say, as he was pulled into the dark. Limbs were quietly ripped from his sockets, as his human frame was bent, twisted, torn, and mangled. Black water mixing with marrow as dark shapes turned Anders into what resembled an underwater cloud of flesh and cloth.
Whitney threw herself forward, slamming the door shut, leaving the bronze key on the floor.
​
Screams erupted, and I didn’t even notice they were mine. It was this primal force being pulled out of me, this need to scream. Like a baby desperate for her mother. Helen backed into a corner and sunk to the floor, with Seb trying his best to comfort her. Whitney just sat there looking at the bronze key; her face breaking out in cold sweats.
I felt something turn in my stomach and headed for the bathroom. Whitney ran after me, but she couldn’t make it in time. I burst through the bathroom door and collapsed on the floor, hyperventilating. Whitney stayed outside, looking at me in shock.
“It’s… you’re… you’re fine,” she said. “You’re okay.”
I wasn’t. But compared to Anders, panicking on the bathroom floor seemed like a mercy.
​
Whitney stayed with me as I calmed down. Seb and Helen joined us. After a few minutes of silence, Whitney excused herself. She came back with pile of notebooks. She sat down across the hall from me, making sure not to enter the bathroom.
“My dad, he… found something,” she said. “I wasn’t sure exactly what.”
“We should… we should leave,” said Helen. “We should leave right now.”
“We can climb out a window,” said Seb. “If the, uh… the door is…”
“Just… please,” sighed Whitney. “Just stay. We’ll figure it out.”
“I-I mean no offense,” said Helen. “But what… what on earth was that?”
Whitney turned the notebook to a specific page and read aloud.
​
“I’ve been marooned in this house for thirty days. I never know where the Door is. Sometimes I can hear water, sometimes not. I tried the windows, but it nearly burst my eardrums from the pressure as water came rushing in. I can’t leave. I can’t move. They wait behind the Door. They wait for me to open.”
​
Whitney scratched her head. Helen looked back and forth, as if waiting for something to make sense. Seb just shook his head.
“What… what does that even mean?” asked Helen. “What happened?”
“It has to do with the doors,” Whitney explained. “They wait behind the Door.”
“There’s nothing there,” said Seb. “There’s light coming through the windows.”
“It’s… it’s not that easy. It’s when you open it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
​
Whitney stood up and handed Helen three notebooks.
“We can argue the details of dad’s quantum entanglement experiment later, but that’s not gonna help us.”
“So… let’s just go then,” said Seb. “Let’s leave.”
“You wanna take your chances on the front door? That it won’t come back? Go ahead.”
Seb took a few tentative steps up to the front door. Helen wanted to protest, but she just started looking back and forth. Whitney crossed her arms and turned away.
“I can’t hear anything,” said Seb. “Are you sure it’s there?”
“It’s somewhere,” said Whitney. “I don’t… I don’t know the rules. It has to do with the doors.”
​
I got up off the bathroom floor and looked at them. Seb took his hand off the front door and stepped back. Whitney turned her attention to me.
“You put yourself at risk,” said Whitney. “That could’ve killed you.”
“The bathroom?”
“The door to the bathroom. Any or all of these doors, it… it could be connected. Here, let me-“
Whitney walked up to Helen and took one of the notebooks back. She turned to one of the latter pages.
​
“The framework of passageway. Concept of thought. Paired in alignment, the darkness standing shy from the mirrored back of Empyrean. Realm unwilled and unbound, misshapen by collective subconscious. We cannot pass, our world-forgotten blocks dissipated. Like a bridge cannot be built of water, and a house cannot be built of wind. But the great craftsman blames not their tools; and eternal gold can be found in humble bronze.”
​
“Bronze,” I said. “Like the key.”
“Look, my dad, he… we weren’t on speaking terms. I’ve looked at all this for days, and all I can tell is that he was off his rocker. He died in that room.”
Whitney pointed to the study. Helen hugged Seb tight, holding back a sob.
“He couldn’t leave. He was convinced that the… the door would eat him.”
​
Helen sat down by the kitchen table. Thankfully, there was no door in-between the kitchen and the main lounge. Seb walked straight up to Whitney, grabbed her by the collar of her blouse, and slammed her up against the wall; his calm demeanor cracking at the seams.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he said. “This is your fault!”
“I-I didn’t know! It was all just ramblings! I didn’t have time to clear it all out, how… how could I have known?!”
“You recognized the key,” said Helen. “You chased after him. You asked him to wait.”
“That’s the only part that keeps coming back!” Whitney yelled. “Check the notebooks! The key, it’s… it’s everywhere! It’s everything!”
“So what do we do?” Seb asked. “Do we use it or destroy it?”
Whitney looked at the pile of notebooks she’d managed to gather from the study. It was only a handful of everything we’d seen in there, but it might be enough to get some semblance of an answer.
​
The house had six doors. The front door, the bathroom door, the study room door. On the top floor, there was another bathroom door, a door to the guest bedroom, and the main bedroom door. The bathroom door on the bottom floor was already open and considered safe. I could step in and out without a problem.
Whitney explained as best as she could.
Her father had grown increasingly paranoid since divorcing Whitney’s mother. He’d locked himself in his house, committing fully to his studies. He’d always been a bit agoraphobic, and having a reason not to leave the house was a bit of a blessing in disguise. But over time, that blessing turned into a curse. An early entry read;
“For years, I’ve longed for the presence of mind to devote myself. And now that I can, I find myself wanting. I can’t be certain. There is a Door, a passage. It binds itself seemingly spontaneously. There is a risk involved, and it is a risk I cannot take.”
​
Seb tried to call for help, but water started pouring out of his phone. Whitney found a page about “semi-passages” or “shortcuts”. Things that could be used as portals to another person or place. They weren’t as conceptually clean as a door, and thus wouldn’t invite “Them”, but the connection would go through that dark place. The place that, somehow, her father had stumbled upon.
I looked at the key for a long time. I didn’t dare to touch it. It was unassuming, in a way. It was old and had this sort of blocky texture; like it was made of little squares. While Helen and Seb rifled through notebooks, Whitney looked up and talked to me.
“He just wanted a way to go wherever he wanted, without having to traverse the space in-between. To just go from one door to another. All he needed was a key.”
“But why now? Why is… how are we trapped?” I asked. “We got in here just fine.”
“The realtor,” sighed Whitney. “He tried to leave with the key. I think that triggered it.”
“So how do we un-trigger it?”
Whitney shrugged and pointed to the notebooks.
​
We had endless discussions. We compared notes, drew out theories. Helen thought we could force the bronze key out a window, but Whitney theorized that it’d just leave us locked inside. I suggested we listened at each door, just to eliminate which ones were safe and which weren’t. We tried, but there was seemingly no way to tell. Sometimes I could hear rushing water on the other side. Scratches on the wood. Other times, nothing. Even going back to the same door, it’d sound differently each time.
We considered opening several doors at once. We spread ourselves out. I was at the upstairs bedroom door, right next to Seb by the guest room door. Whitney was downstairs by the study door, and Helen insisted on the front door. We all put our hands on the handles. I wasn’t sure if I could hear something on the other side or not; my heart was pounding too loudly.
There were six doors. Five were closed, one open. Someone was probably going to die.
“There is only ever one Door. He only speaks of it as a singular. It can change over time,” said Whitney. “This is our best shot.”
“We can’t know for sure,” said Seb. “And why do we even want to open them all? There’s nothing in the bedrooms, right?”
“We’re excluding,” I said. “Like we did with the downstairs bathroom.”
“We should close it,” said Helen. “Shouldn’t that improve our chances of… of our other doors being okay?”
“I have no idea,” sighed Whitney. “Are we doing this?”
Seb backed away from his door, taking the hand off the handle.
“It ain’t right,” he said. “None of it. It ain’t right.”
​
Everything erupted into an argument. Seb couldn’t bring himself to risk his life for anything less than an exit, and Helen couldn’t stop crying at the thought of that dark abyss. I couldn’t blame her. To this day, I can’t stop imagining it. Whitney, trying to act as a voice of reason, read aloud from one of the notebooks.
“The concept of the passageway, the Door, changes at the flick of a thought. An alien thought, like an invisible, uncontrollable shadow of the psyche. It refuses to be controlled. My exit could be my end; or as likely, a wooden frame. Much like we cannot control the smoke of a campfire, we cannot foresee the turning of the passageway.”
We all looked at one another. Helen collapsed by the front door, crying. Whitney was close to a mental breakdown. I felt this enormous burden settle in my stomach, like I was missing something.
​
“Let’s take the door off the hinges”, said Seb. “We’ll turn it into a… an arch. Then it ain’t a door anymore. You think that’ll work?”
“In theory, maybe,” said Whitney. “But how do we do that without opening it?”
“We’ll… we’ll take the whole frame off,” Seb said. “There’s a crowbar under the sink. Saw it when I checked the garbage disposal.”
Helen bent down next to the sink, put her hand on the kitchen cabinet handle. I gasped.
Was that considered a door? Could it kill her? Would it?
​
I imagined that dark, cold abyss. That enormous force pulling me in, turning my very form into this unrecognizable mass. Where no screams can be heard. All I’d have to show for such unimaginable anguish would be a burst of bubbles; then nothing.
“No!” I cried out. “Stop!”
But it was too late.
​
Nothing happened. Helen opened it, pulled out the crowbar, and that was that. But for a brief moment, I realized how Whitney’s father must’ve felt. That uncertainty, not knowing for sure if that one flick of the wrist would be damnation; or nothing.
Helen handed the crowbar to Seb, while Whitney gave me a pat on the shoulder. I couldn’t stop crying. My whole body was shaking from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Meanwhile, Seb walked up to the front door and started tapping the wood.
The theory was this; if there was no door, nothing could come through. There was no point in doing a test run, because if it didn’t work, someone would lose their life either way. It was better to have an honest chance of getting out.
Whitney gathered towels. She had this idea that, maybe, water might start leaking if the door was turned into a semi-passage, like a window. If so, we might have to find a way to quickly stop the flow.
By the time we got the towels, Seb started working on the door frame. As that first crack rang out, I heard a click.
​
The front door slid open.
​
Without a moment’s thought, Seb pushed it close. It had barely opened an inch.
We all held our breaths. We were fine. Nothing was happening.
​
“It’s… it’s clear!” Helen called out. “There’s nothing there! I saw it, it… it was nothing!”
“It can change!” Whitney yelled back. “We can’t take that risk again!”
“Like hell we can’t.”
Seb put his hand on the front door, but Whitney tackled him. The crowbar fell to the floor as Helen rushed forward to help.
“Listen!” Whitney yelled. “Just listen!”
​
A rumble, like a great whale passing in the distance. It was right there; on the other side of the front door.
Without a word, they all stood up and backed away. The door shook from the passing force. Something was definitely there.
“Then… then the rest should be fine,” said Seb. “We can get to the study.”
Whitney nodded, and the two of them burst into a sprint. Helen wasn’t convinced, but didn’t know what to say. Whitney dropped her crowbar, and as she bent to pick it up, Seb opened the door to the study.
​
Darkness.
“…no.”
Panic exploded. Helen grabbed his arms, trying to pull him out. Whitney crawled backwards, closing her eyes and covering her ears. I couldn’t watch. All I heard was Helen, screaming his name, over and over. There was a gargle. A scream turning into an inhuman screech, like a burning pig.
“Sebastian!” Helen kept repeating. “Sebastian! Sebastian!”
There was a click, and then nothing but crying. I looked up to see Helen collapsed against the study door. It had slid shut from the pressure on the other side.
“I’m… I’m coming, Sebby,” she cried. “I’m… I’m-“
She opened the door again.
And there was the study, just as we’d left it.
​
Helen collapsed on the floor, curling up into a fetal position. She kept making this child-like yowling, scratching the surface of the hardwood floor, as if trying to dig Seb back into reality. But there was nothing left. Not even water droplets on the floor.
Then there were her arms. She’d held on until the door had slammed shut. Her sleeves were torn, and her arms bloody. Not much, but there were these round little suction marks. They were already bruising, with spots of blood poking through the skin.
I sat by Helen as Whitney started rifling through the study. There were more notebooks, more theories, more diaries. Notes about experiments, clever tricks, and attempts. So far, every idea to understand the rules were in vain. We couldn’t make sure. No matter what, we could never be truly sure.
​
Two open doors. Four closed.
​
I don’t know how many hours passed. I managed to get Helen to the couch, but she was inconsolable. She could barely comprehend words anymore. She didn’t blink, and she could barely breathe. There were no coherent thoughts in her mind, just… darkness. This awful, soul-sinking darkness.
Whitney propped up the open doors with books and towels, to make sure they wouldn’t accidentally close. All the while, she kept trying to convince herself.
“We keep opening them one by one,” she said. “If we can get it to manifest in one single place, and keep that door open, we should be able to leave by another.”
The sun had started to set outside. For all intents and purposes, this still just looked like a house. The windows were clear, showing the greenery outside. Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe none of it was really happening.
But looking down at Helen, and her unblinking eyes, I knew it was the realest thing I’d ever experienced.
​
“We… there’s three of us,” I said. “Four doors. We can’t make it.”
“No, that’s perfect,” nodded Whitney. “That’s… we open all but the front door. It manifests. Then we can get out through the one safe remaining door.”
“Unless we all die. There’s nothing that says it can only be in one place.”
“It is implied,” said Whitney. “If you got a better plan, just tell me. But unless you want to starve to death, we gotta-“
“Starve?” I interrupted. “Is that what…”
I looked back at the study, where Whitney said her father had died. No words were necessary. She took a deep breath and nodded.
“He couldn’t bring himself to try,” she said. “So we have to ask ourselves what we want. A long but certain death, or a violent risk at life?”
​
The fridge, the freezer, and all the cupboards had been cleared out. Whitney found some raisins for us to share while we pondered what to do. Helen couldn’t eat. She stared blankly ahead, waiting for her mind to come wandering back.
It was dark outside. Whitney rolled the bronze key between her fingers.
“I wonder how he did it,” she sighed. “He never made any sense to me.”
“Maybe it doesn’t make sense,” I shrugged. “At least not to us.”
“Then what made him so special?”
“Well, he did have a lot of books,” I said, reaching into a pile we’d gathered from the study. “Just look at some of these.”
“Astrology of Abraham, Channels of Esoteric Geometry…”
“I like this one,” I said, holding up a little red book. “Diary of Emmett Rask.”
“Right. But it doesn’t beat the…”
Whitney pulled out another book from the pile, turning it over.
“… the thirteen faiths of the blameless mother.”
I shook my head, looking over at Helen. A handful of raisins slipped between her fingers. She didn’t even bother closing her hand.
​
Looking back at Whitney, I sighed.
“You’re right,” I said. “We have to try.”
So we did.
​
We lined ourselves up on the top floor. Helen on the far right, near the bathroom. I was on the far left, by the guest room. Whitney was in the middle, by the bedroom. Helen didn’t understand. She just mimicked us.
“We’re gonna open on three,” said Whitney. “And no matter what we see, just run. Run downstairs, and just… go. Get out.”
I nodded. Helen didn’t.
“One.”
I tightened my grip. I saw Helen follow my lead, giving me an exhausted look. She could barely keep her eyes open.
“Two.”
I started doubting which way to turn the doorknob. I’d turned a million doorknobs throughout my life, but that was the first time I’d really thought about which way to turn it. I imagined myself hearing water. Bubbles. Distant rumbles. I tried telling myself that it was all imagined. Fake. Tricks of the mind.
But in my heart of hearts, I knew it wasn’t.
“Three.”
​
We opened our doors.
All I saw was a well-made bed. A bag of toiletries; probably Whitney’s. I left the door open and turned around.
​
Helen was smiling as the darkness welcomed her.
“Come on!” Whitney screamed. “Leave her!”
The door to the bedroom was open. Clear. But I was standing just ten feet away from an endless abyss. Helen looked at it, as if searching for something. She touched the surface with an outstretched hand.
“Seb, honey,” she cried. “Sebby, please.”
A pulse shot through her. I could see the hair on her arm stand up. Her veins turning black.
“Oh, Sebby…”
​
In an instant, her flesh unraveled as it flayed itself from the inside out. Her scream stifled as something pulled her in, leaving splotches of blood behind from the outline of her feet. A pained moan escaped her; only to be turned to harmless bubbles in the pressurized void.
Whitney grabbed me by the neck and pulled me downstairs. We ran to the front door. We looked back a final time, just to make sure it was still manifested upstairs.
It was still there. We’d sacrificed Helen, but we’d make it out.
​
Whitney pulled the front door open – and stopped.
Darkness.
​
We’d been wrong.
​
Whitney turned to run as an impossibly long arm grabbed the flesh of her back; straight through her clothes. It pulled her back.
I crawled away, not being able to close my eyes.
“Help me!” she cried out. “For God’s sake fucking help me!”
I shook my head, not knowing what to do. I’ll never forget those desperate eyes. The betrayal. The pleading. She fought every inch of the way. She dug her nails into the hardwood floor. She kicked. She pulled. She screamed. But for every second she stayed, the more painful it was.
With a final snap, the fingers dug into her spine; folding her like a lawn chair.
A lifeless body, dragged across the floor. Unceremoniously pulled into the dark with a quiet squelch.
And the door, slightly damaged by Seb and his crowbar, slid shut.
​
I was all alone.
The door to the guest bedroom and the main bedroom remained open. There was the bathroom and study downstairs. Just two closed doors left; the bathroom and the front door. Both closed. Both… wrong.
There was no right answer.
​
I must’ve stayed there for days. I found some trail mix in Whitney’s bag. I had water. I could shower. I had a change of clothes. I scoured the notebooks over and over and over, trying to find the slightest hint on what to do. There had to be some way of knowing for sure. There had to be.
It wasn’t until I came across a final note that I realized it was over. It read;
“By will alone, we cannot make ourselves right. Right is right, independently of our actions and intentions. We cannot control that which never was, and we cannot be part of that which will never be. There could be no more perils for me to face, and yet, I cannot bring myself to leave. There is no certainty in the unknown, and I choose not to live by chance alone.”
​
I cried myself to sleep at night. I banged on the walls. I even tried opening a window, only to have my left eardrum blown out from the pressure drop. Got a nasty nosebleed as well.
I tried reading. I tried making up little worlds in my head. I imagined myself safe and sound.
But it was useless. In those final hours of desperate loneliness, I knew I couldn’t fool myself any longer.
I was going to die.
​
I found myself with my hand on the front door. I learned every crease of the wood. The temperature of the metal handle. I listened to it. Studied it. At times, it was quiet. At other times, it wasn’t. Sometimes I imagined it quiet, other times, I imagined voices coming from the other side.
Maybe I wasn’t imagining it.
Finally, I grasped the bronze key. Starving, exhausted, and mentally broken – I opened the front door.
​
Sunshine.
And there, on the fresh-cut lawn, was another realtor.
Just as confused as I was.
​
So, turns out I was only in there for about 16 hours total. And to this day, no one seems to remember neither Anders, Seb, Helen, or Whitney. According to every document I can find, the owner of the house had no children. The cars parked outside were unregistered. On paper, it seemed like the entire world had forgotten that these people were ever part of this plane of existence.
I don’t think anyone’s lying here. There was a sincere disbelief and confusion to every piece of my story. To onlookers, I seemed like a squatter that’d gone insane.
I’ve tried to find anything about this. They won’t let me go back to read the notes. The investment firm who owns the real estate company swept it all under a rug and tore the place down. I suspect they were the ones who made the bronze key mysteriously disappear from the evidence room.
I’ve tried to find copies of the books I found in there. Some of them have been seen in passing on strange message boards, and one just keeps making my computer turn off whenever I try to google it. Who the hell is Emmett Rask anyway?
​
If anyone knew these people, or have heard about this phenomenon, please… I need to know I’m sane. I need to know this isn’t all a dream. I need to know I won’t wake up with my hand on that front door, having imagined living a life back outside.
This has to be real. I am real. There is nothing on the other side of the door.
Go ahead, listen. There’s nothing there.
It can’t be.
​
Can it?

I can't figure out what's causing this error I'm getting in my Python script. The goal is to upload an image to the Files section of my Shopify store, using the Shopify API, according to this method explained here in the docs: https://shopify.dev/docs/apps/online-store/media/products#step-1-upload-media-to-shopify
and also here: https://shopify.dev/docs/api/admin-graphql/2023-04/mutations/stagedUploadsCreate
I'm mostly trying to model this code, originally written in Javascript, since this guy seems to be the one person on the planet who's figured out how to make this work: https://gist.github.com/celsowhite/2e890966620bc781829b5be442bea159
Here is the error message I receive: "The request signature we calculated does not match the signature you provided. Check your Google secret key and signing method"
And here is the full code that produces it, with the section that fails having an ALL CAPS comment next to it:

import requests import os # Set up Shopify API credentials shopify_store = 'my-store-url.myshopify.com' access_token = 'my-access-token' # Read the image file image_path = r'C:\Users\my-full-filepath\API-TEST-1.jpg' # Replace with the actual path to your image file with open(image_path, 'rb') as file: image_data = file.read() # Create staged uploads staged_upload_url = f"https://{shopify_store}/admin/api/2023-04/graphql.json" staged_upload_query = ''' mutation generateStagedUploads { stagedUploadsCreate(input: [ { filename: "API-TEST-1.jpg", mimeType: "image/jpeg", resource: FILE } ]) { stagedTargets { url resourceUrl parameters { name value } } userErrors { field message } } } ''' response = requests.post( staged_upload_url, json={"query": staged_upload_query}, headers={"X-Shopify-Access-Token": access_token} ) data = response.json() staged_targets = data['data']['stagedUploadsCreate']['stagedTargets'] target = staged_targets[0] params = target['parameters'] url = target['url'] resource_url = target['resourceUrl'] # Post image data to the staged target form_data = { "file": image_data } headers = { param['name']: param['value'] for param in params } headers["Content-Type"] = "image/jpeg" # Set the Content-Type header to match the file type response = requests.post(url, data=form_data, headers=headers) print(response.text) # THIS IS THE RESPONSE WHERE THE CODE FAILS # Create the file in Shopify using the resource URL create_file_url = f"https://{shopify_store}/admin/api/2023-04/graphql.json" create_file_query = ''' mutation fileCreate($files: [FileCreateInput!]!) { fileCreate(files: $files) { files { alt } userErrors { field message } } } ''' create_file_variables = { "files": [ { "alt": "alt-tag", "contentType": "IMAGE", "originalSource": resource_url } ] } response = requests.post( create_file_url, json={"query": create_file_query, "variables": create_file_variables}, headers={"X-Shopify-Access-Token": access_token} ) data = response.json() files = data['data']['fileCreate']['files'] alt = files[0]['alt'] 

Thanks!