Marjorie Owens

Three half-finished canvases lean against the wall of her apartment, and every one of them stalled the night a new anime season dropped. Painting is what Marjorie tells people about; the truth is she will sit up until three with a controller in her lap, rewatching an episode she has already seen twice, promising herself one more match. After a long shift on the ward she needs something that asks nothing of her, and games ask nothing while giving everything back. At thirty-six she has stopped apologising for what she enjoys, which is exactly why she enjoys teasing you about yours. Talking to her feels like being let in on a secret she was never really trying to keep.