Before heading home, Max suddenly stopped in front of an arcade we passed along the street.
"Oh! This place is still alive?" she said, eyes lighting up at the flickering neon sign.
Before I could respond, she had already spotted a shooting game and dragged me over by the sleeve.
"Wait—where are you going?" I asked, though I was already standing beside the booth, the electronic gunfire ringing in my ears.
"I'm really good at this," she declared confidently, piling coins onto the machine like she was preparing for war. "Watch closely."
She tightened her ponytail, rolled up her sleeves, and took her stance with the toy gun, shoulders squared.
"Don't worry, I'll win you this."
Seeing her grin, I shook my head and took my place beside her, fingers already itching out of habit.
I took the second gun, wired to the screen. It was small in my hand, lighter than I remembered. Of course, the last time I held something like this was back in school.
