Fame, Jim had discovered, was like that ex who shows up unannounced on your doorstep after you've finally gotten your life together—uninvited, inconvenient, and irritatingly attractive despite your better judgment.
"Ten million views," Sunny announced, barging into the kitchen where Jim was peacefully making his morning coffee. She thrust her phone in his face, the screen displaying a t****k video with a number that made his stomach perform an elaborate gymnastics routine. "Ten. Million. Views. Overnight!"
Jim squinted at the footage—slightly grainy, shot from someone's wobbly phone in the coffee shop audience, capturing his rendition of "First Time Ever I Saw Your Face." The comments scrolled beneath like a ticker tape of public opinion:
omg is this SEAMUS KELLY?? thought he was dead o
