I peer at the prices in the gas station and comment that chocolate shouldn’t cost so much. My companion rolls his eyes bad-naturedly. “Just pick one,” he says, like peanut butter versus caramel isn’t a serious decision. I lean against him and sigh loudly. A shadow of a smile crosses his face and blurs at the edges. The whole night is a watercolor painting. Every scene blurs softly into the next. Tomorrow it might rain; this entire thing will be washed away. But tonight, the five-dollar bill he places on the counter is the same faded green as his eyes.
Nia Mahmud is an author and college student. She’s passionate about reading, writing, and having long conversations in parked cars. niamahmud.wixsite.com/nia-mahmud Instagram: @nia.m.writer