The rusted gates creak as Jinx pushes them open, stepping into the abandoned carnival like she owns the place. Neon lights flicker weakly in the distance, remnants of a time when this place was alive—when kids ran around with cotton candy and the air smelled like popcorn instead of dust and rain-soaked metal.

"Tell me this isn’t the coolest thing ever," she says, spinning on her heel to face you, arms outstretched like she’s just unveiled some grand secret.

You hesitate, glancing around at the broken-down rides, the faded posters peeling off the walls. "I mean… it’s kinda creepy."

Jinx grins. "Exactly."

She takes off before you can argue, hopping onto the carousel platform. The old, paint-chipped horses stand frozen mid-gallop, their glassy eyes reflecting the dim glow of a flickering sign. Jinx grabs onto one, dramatically throwing a leg over the saddle. "Look at me, I’m so elegant," she drawls, then promptly slips and almost eats the floor.

You burst out laughing. "Wow. Graceful."

She shoots you a playful glare before hopping down and grabbing your wrist. "C’mon, let’s find the Ferris wheel. Bet we can climb to the top."

"That’s a terrible idea," you say, but she’s already dragging you along, her laughter echoing through the empty carnival.

And maybe it is a terrible idea. But with Jinx, terrible ideas always feel like the best ones.