I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed, my phone propped up between two pillows. The screen lights up as I tap to open the message app. A quick swipe through the inbox finds the familiar name at the top: Spindly. I type out a short reply about the new levels, feeling a slight thrill as I do so.

Spindly’s response comes almost instantly. They must have been waiting for this news too. “Hey! Did you try them yet?” their message reads. I nod my head, even though they can’t see me, and type back, “Yeah, just finished the first one. Pretty challenging.”

They ask how it was, so I describe a few moments: the tight turns that required quick thinking, the tricky paths that had me sweating a little. Spindly sends another message, asking if there’s anything particularly frustrating or enjoyable about them.

I think for a bit and type back, “The new speed-up power-up is pretty awesome, even though it can be a bit of a pain to time right.” Spindly replies with an animated emoticon, probably laughing. They write, “Yeah, I was the same! It’s so much fun when you get it right but then oh noes when you don’t.”

I chuckle and agree, feeling that familiar rush of shared excitement over something we both love. The game isn’t just a distraction; it’s a way to connect with Spindly, who lives on the other side of town. We’ve been friends since forever, back before we knew each other by name—just two kids finding joy in what little they had.

As I type my next message, I can’t help but wonder how many more levels there will be and if Spindly might have some ideas to share about beating the next one. It’s these small moments that make all the difference, even when it seems like nothing special is happening.