The paper bag from Big Belly Burger was warm in Y/n's hand, grease bleeding through in a single, telltale spot. The fries inside had gone lukewarm during the detour. The wrong turn. The very wrong turn that had somehow led past a quiet street of shops Y/n had never once seen on the way to school.

The game shop sat wedged between a laundromat and a shuttered ramen place, its windows crowded with faded posters of booster packs long out of print. A bell chimed overhead as Y/n pushed the door open, more out of curiosity than need.

Y/n pulled out their phone to check the map, but the screen was dark. Dead. Of course.

The old man waited, patient as a grandfather. His hands rested on the counter, gnarled and gentle. Behind him, wall-to-wall shelves held rows of card games, board games, and things Y/n didn't recognize.

But the game shop lingered, a small bright spot in a month of beige unpacked boxes and unfamiliar streets.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor of their mostly empty room, booting up their laptop, letting the familiar hum of the machine fill the silence. Discord notified them of three missed messages.

The burger tasted like victory.