Not where I worked, but you get the idea
It was one of those autumn evenings that sticks with you, the kind where the sky turns a wash of orange and pink, then fades into purple, and everything feels just a little quieter. I was behind the counter of that small gas station, meticulously straightening shelves, my dark hair falling into my eyes as I focused on the routine. The hum of the fluorescent lights was almost soothing tonight. It was quiet, almost too quiet, until the door jingled open.
The orange leaves are always pretty, I love fall
Jez. She always had that way of brightening a room, even in the gloomiest moments. When I saw her come in, I knew she was off work from the video store, her cheerful energy was impossible to miss. “Hey, Zerpi!” she called out, her voice lifting, warm and full of life.
I looked up, my dark eyes narrowing in that familiar, amused way I always did when Jez arrived. I was aware of how different we are. Jez with her sunny disposition, and me, the girl who lives in shadows and prefers the quiet. Still, I knew she liked to come see me, and I didn’t mind. I offered a faint, knowing smile in return. “Jez. You’re early,” I said softly, my voice smooth, almost like I’d been practicing it. And i had been.
She shrugged playfully, stepping closer. “I just finished at the video store and thought I’d swing by before I headed home. Looks like you’re almost done here?”
I checked the clock behind me, then nodded. “Yeah, just a few more minutes. Not many customers tonight.” My words are deliberate, routine, part of my quiet rhythm. I don’t rush I like to take my time finishing up.
Jez leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling. “So, what’s the plan? Do I get to see your goth lair tonight?”
I smirked faintly, the corners of my mouth curling in that way she knows so well. “If you’re lucky. Still need to do a few things here.” I paused, then added casually, “Afterward, maybe we can grab some junk food and watch that romcom movie you keep talking about.” I hated those movies, but I always had fun hanging out with Jez.
Her face lit up like she’d just been handed the world. “Yes! I’ve been craving greasy pizza and those weird mustard chips you like. Want me to pick us up some snacks?”
Cheap pizza, check! Enough grease to cause a 10-car pileup? Double check!!
These aren't the chips. The bag is similar, but they were some generic, whatever brand. Man, I wish I could remember the name
I hesitated briefly part of me wanted to say no, to keep things simple. But I shook my head slightly, a small, almost shy smile on my face. “No, I’ve got it. Just wait here. I’ll be done soon.”
While I finished my closing tasks, I watched Jez browse the shelves. She was stuffing her bag with snacks, chips, candy bars, soda. Her excitement filling the quiet little store, I could see her sneaking glances at me, her cheerful energy contrasting sharply with my calm focus. My nails tapped against the counter as I wiped surfaces, my movements deliberate, almost ritualistic.
Finally, I slid the cash into the register and looked over at Jez. “Ready?”
“Always,” she said eagerly, grabbing her bag.
We stepped outside into the cool night air. I linked my arm with hers as we headed toward her Toyota, trusty enough to get us where we needed to go. The drive was easy. Jez kept teasing me about my dark fashion choices, cracking silly jokes that made me roll my eyes but secretly smile. It was familiar, the kind of teasing that’s almost a comfort, even if I don’t always show it.
When we reached Jez’s house, she flopped onto the couch, clutching her bag of snacks. I hesitated a moment, then sat down beside her, pulling my knees up. Jez eagerly unpacked the chips and candy, offering some to me. I took them silently, a quiet smile forming one she’s seen before and seems to understand without needing words.
The TV flickered on, and Jez reached into her bag for the game case. “Alright,” she said with a grin, “time to relive some childhood fun. You ready for some Mario Bros 3?”
I like green Mario the best!
I raised an eyebrow, but nodded. I don’t usually get excited about video games, but with Jez, everything felt different tonight. She handed me the controller, and I settled into the couch beside her. The familiar music and the bright, pixelated graphics of Mario Bros 3 filled the room, bringing back memories of simpler days.
Jez was already bouncing in her seat, eager to start. “Okay, okay, watch this,” she said, her voice full of mischievous excitement. She pressed buttons with quick, precise movements, her tongue poking out in concentration. I watched her with mild amusement as she navigated Mario through the colorful levels, jumping over Goombas and dodging Koopa shells.
“Whoa,” she said after a particularly tricky jump, “I haven’t played this in ages. I used to beat this game when I was a kid... well, almost.” She looked over at me with a grin. “Your turn. Show me what you got.”
I took the controller, a little unsure but willing to play along. My fingers moved steadily, familiar with the controls. I guided Mario through the first few levels, carefully avoiding enemies and collecting coins. Jez cheered each time I cleared a stage, her laughter filling the room.
We took turns, each trying to beat the other’s high score, teasing and trash-talking in good fun. Jez’s laughter was infectious, her carefree spirit lighting up the room. I found myself smiling more than I expected, the simple joy of playing together making the night feel lighter somehow.
After a while, we paused, leaning back into the cushions. Jez looked over at me with a playful grin. “You’re pretty good at this,” she said. “I might need some tips from you.”
I shrugged, feeling unexpectedly relaxed. “It’s not that hard,” I replied, cracking a gloomy smile. “You just have to keep trying.”
Jez nodded, her eyes shining. “This was a good idea. Just us and Mario kind of perfect, huh?”
I nodded in agreement. That moment the quiet comfort of each other’s company, the flickering glow of the TV, the nostalgic music, became a memory I knew I’d hold onto. Sitting there with Jez, I realized how rare those moments are, when the world outside feels distant and all that matters is right here.
As we kept playing, Jez suddenly reached over and nudged me gently. “You know,” she said softly, “this is one of my favorite nights. Just hanging out with you, playing games, eating junk. It’s kind of perfect.”
I paused, then looked at her and nodded again. I don’t say much, but I think she knows I feel the same. That shared silence, the laughter, the simple joy of being together became a quiet, treasured memory I’d carry with me long after the night was over.
Sometimes I wonder how someone so full of light can make my shadows feel a little less heavy. And I realize, even in my quiet darkness, I’ve found something rare with Jez. Something I’d never traded away. And that night, as we sat there, immersed in pixels and laughter, I knew I’d remember it forever.
Sometimes all it takes is a silly game and some questionable junk food to create a fond memory. And a good friend doesn't hurt matters. Always keep the real friends you have close, They are as rare as a perfect diamond.
