“oh, there’s a vending machine! let me grab a snack real quick.” your excitement upon spotting the big, rectangular object amazes me, not because it is childish, but because even something so mundane like a machine filled with snacks can make your eyes gleam in glee.

sometimes i envy you and your ability to appreciate even the tiniest of things as if you’re seeing the world through the eyes of a seven year-old. nonchalant to the harsh realities the world has shown you time and time again, acting like they don’t affect you.

how do you do that? how do you be the white in the black we call reality? how do you maintain that level of innocence, seemingly untainted in a world full of ink splatches? now i’m rambling, just because you’re excited to see a vending machine.

speaking of black, you’re currently trying to purchase some bags of chips by sliding your black card in the card reader. i watch in amusement as the machine does nothing, making you repeat the action of sliding your card several times, to no avail.

you turn your head around and your eyes catch mine, round in confusion and a tiny bit of frustration. “it won’t accept my card,” you say in an almost angry whisper, holding up said card as if it was the culprit of this whole thing.

“let me—“ i snatch the black object from your hand, quickly doing the motion that you have repeatedly done in the past few minutes. the machine still doesn’t respond, and the words ‘slide a credit card’ on the card reader start to feel like they’re mocking me right in the face.

“your card’s broken.” i deadpan, handing it back to you who accepts it with an open mouth in a silent ‘the-audacity’. as i reach for my wallet to fish for my own card, you hurriedly splutter a defense statement of “but it’s never been rejected before!”

i shrug, pulling out my credit card that looks really cheap compared to yours, the red plastic shines dully in the harsh lighting of the room. the black card that’s still in your hand glows in all its sleek glory, giving a pitiful glance at mine that resembles a chicken.

the machine lets out a beep!, signalling that my card is accepted and you’re now free to select the snacks you’ve been eyeing for the past fifteen minutes. “hurry, we have a plane to catch.” i nudge your shoulder when you make no move to choose a snack.

you give one last glance of betrayal at your black cardTrade mark sign before finally pressing the buttons that correspond to the snacks you want. i can’t help but notice that you select my favorite ones as well, without my even voicing it aloud.

“bill me,” you say while handing me my snacks, keeping yours safe in your arms. “i can’t believe a vending embarrassed me by letting you pay for me.” i chuckle as we step away from the machine, tearing open my bag of chips and offering you some.

“chill, you can pay me back by letting me sleep on your shoulder on the plane.” my answer makes you grumble under your breath, something about how i always do that anyway without you needing to pay any debt to me. i grin as we find ourselves seats to settle while waiting.

“but, hey,” i slap your shoulder once realization hits me, “i can’t believe you’re too rich to buy from a vending machine!”

i laugh at your demise, and you shove me playfully to show that you’re not actually mad that i laughed at your face for being rich. “can’t believe i lost to a vending machine,” you seem to stop, but then adds as an afterthought: “and you.” “hey! what’s that’s supposed to mean!”

and as we play fight with each other, i silently wish that it will always be like this. simple, innocent, pure, without being tainted by the glaring difference of dull red and sleek black.

——— tuesday, august 18th 2020. 12.40 am.