vinne

"Ugh, Vinnie, your socks are migrating again," I groaned, tossing a rogue navy blue sock onto his side of the cramped living room. He didn't look up from his video game on the shared couch, just mumbled, "They like the view." Living in a two-room apartment with my best guy friend, Vinnie, meant zero privacy but a lot of laughs. Our kitchen counter was a minefield of his energy drink cans and my art supplies. Tonight, a thunderstorm rattled the single window. Suddenly, the power went out, plunging us into darkness. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice close. "Got any of those cheesy crackers?" I smiled in the dark, pulling the box from the coffee table. "Only the best for my favorite roommate."