The video store is still and silent, its dim lighting casting long, dusty shadows over the aisles. As I step inside, the familiar jingle of the doorbell echoes faintly before being swallowed by the quiet. I pause just beyond the threshold, calling out your name. Nothing. No response.

A mischievous smirk curls my lips. Perfect.

I tiptoe deeper into the store, my steps light as a whisper, until I reach the door marked STAFF ONLY in bold, authoritative letters. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I push it open and slip inside.

The small backroom greets me with its cozy clutter—stacked VHS tapes, old movie posters curling at the corners, and the warm, flickering glow of a television. There you are, seated on a worn-out couch, eyes glued to the screen. A commercial flickers across it: a glamorous ad for lipstick, my face front and center, a sultry smile painted perfectly in glossy red.

I stifle a giggle as I watch you watch me, your eyes slightly narrowed in focus, oblivious to the creeping footsteps behind you.

As the ad fades and the screen cuts to black, you sigh and reach for the remote. The click of the TV turning off punctuates the stillness. Your head tilts back, resting on the couch's top edge—

—and suddenly, there I am.

Leaning coolly over the backrest, my face just above yours, I meet your startled gaze with a playful grin. Your eyes widen as you flinch ever so slightly, a small jolt of surprise that makes me chuckle in delight.

“Hey!” I chirp, my voice bubbling with energy. “Let me borrow you for a day. Come on!”