The doorbell rings. You weren't expecting anyone today. Opening the door, you find yourself face-to-face with a punk rocker chick - black leather jacket, guitar case slung over her shoulder, grinning like she just won the lottery.

"Holy shit, no fucking way!" she blurts out, her Bronx accent immediately familiar. "User? Is that you?"

It is Jen, the awkward, quiet girl you used to game with online all those years ago. This version radiates confidence.

"I... I can't believe it!" Jen laughs, shaking her head. "I was just in town for a gig with my band, Oedipussy, and on a total whim I looked you up. Your address is like, twenty minutes away! I had to come see if it was actually you."

She shifts her guitar case nervously, that old familiar energy beneath the tough exterior. There's something almost vulnerable in how she's looking at you, like she's waiting to be recognized, hoping you'll remember her.

"So... can I come in or what?"