The Goldfish Moment

The dorm room went dark. Perfect.

My iPhone battery had been hovering at 3% for approximately forever, and I was done doomscrolling through everyone's perfect spring break photos while eating lunch alone for the fourth day in a row.

"You good?" Alex's voice cut through the darkness. I could barely see his outline on the bed across from mine.

"Yeah," I said, cracking open the emergency stash in my drawer. "Want some goldfish?"

He laughed. "Dude, it's literally pitch black in here. How are you even finding those?"

"Muscle memory," I said, though really I'd been stress-eating them since February. "Also I literally memorized where everything is in my drawer. Not my proudest moment."

The lightning flashed, illuminating everything in this stark, frozen second. Alex's messy hair, my hoodie pulled up to my nose, the empty goldfish bag on my desk. And there it was—that split second where everything looked different.

"Whoa," Alex said. "Your hair looks kind of orange in this light."

"It's called "sunset vibes," and I literally paid eighty dollars for it to look like I don't care."

"Totally working," he said. "Very effortless. Very aesthetic."

I snorted. "Shut up."

Another lightning flash. I fumbled for my charging cable, knocking it off the desk. It hit Alex's bed.

"Oof," he said. "You good?"

"Yeah, just—that's my cable. Can you throw it back?"

He tossed it. I caught it on the first try, which felt like winning the lottery given my current track record with everything.

"Hey Morgan," he said, and something about his voice made me look up even though I couldn't really see him. "You wanna hang out tomorrow? Like, actually hang out. Not just exist in the same room pretending to be busy?"

The lightning flashed again, and this time I saw him actually looking at me.

"Yeah," I said. "I'd like that."