Best Friends

His bedroom is a mess of gaming controllers,

Random grey and black wires,

And control boxes.

But that’s fine,

Because she can navigate her way,

Through it with ease,

Because she has been doing it for years.

His bed cover is wrinkled,

The navy fabric losing color,

And fraying at the ends.

Black pillows are scattered on the bed,

And on the floor,

For maximum comfort,

And she always sits on black rectangle one,

With a dark hot cocoa stain,

From the sick day he took,

Three years before.

And he always sits on the round black one,

With a strange red dot,

On the left corner,

And hugs a tiny yellow pillow,

He got from one of his aunt’s,

While using his thumbs his move,

And control.

Every day after school,

The ritual is the same,

A snack of orange juice,

And cheese,

With the occasional cookie, he would sneak.

And then they would wander in his room,

And sit on their gaming thrones,

Hunched over,

With a determined looks on their faces.

They had been best friends for so long,

She had her own game controller,

A blinding shade of red,

With black buttons,

While his was black,

With blue and yellow buttons.

And they equal in skill,

So sometimes he would lose,

And sometimes she would beat a best score,

And then they would celebrate,

With whooping and fist bumping,

And playing rock, paper, scissors, shoot,

To see who would get the powerup.

And she would stay for dinner,

On every day but Wednesday,

Because Wednesday was spinach,

And chicken soup,

And she never ate spinach.

But every Wednesday before she would leave,

He would sneak her a snickerdoodle cookie,

And she would happily take that,

Instead of spinach and chicken soup.

After they would play for several hours,

They would lounge on his floor,

Doing math homework,

And talking.

He would lean against the bed,

And she would lay on it,

On her stomach,

Clutching a black pillow,

And laughing until her sides hurt,

When he made a joke.

Things where never awkward,

Because they had known each other,

Since they where five,

And thought of each as family.

So on every day of the week,

Except for Sunday,

They would go to his room,

To talk,

To laugh,

And to do what they did best:


And be best friends.

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