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⠄⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⠼⣛⣛⣭⢭⣟⣛⣛⣛⠿⠿⢆⡠⢿⣿⣿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠸⣿⣿⢣⢶⣟⣿⣖⣿⣷⣻⣮⡿⣽⣿⣻⣖⣶⣤⣭⡉⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⢹⠣⣛⣣⣭⣭⣭⣁⡛⠻⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣽⡧⡄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣌⡛⢿⣽⢘⣿⣷⣿⡻⠏⣛⣀⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠙⡅⣿⠚⣡⣴⣿⣿⣿⡆⠄
⠄⠄⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠄⣱⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄
⠄⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄
⠄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄
⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠑⣿⣮⣝⣛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄
⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠄
First dive—pitch black, oxygen ticking down, something moving in the dark. I hesitated.
He didn’t.
“Stick low. Conserve boost,” he said, calm like he’d done it a hundred times.
While I panicked, he flowed. Clean routes. Perfect timing. Like there was no diving tomorrow.
We cleared it first try.
We never played it again. Not because it was bad—because it felt finished.
Then we hopped onto Roblox, queued Sniper Duels.
Rooftops. Long sightlines.
I missed.
He didn’t.
“Breathe before you click.” He said.
I took that advice to heart.
Different game. Same energy.
Like every round might be the last.
therell be no weddin bells for today
cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle