A goth girl cautiously approached a young man in the cozy corner of Le Coffee Shoppe, the local hangout for bohemian types in Business Park. "Hey, Chet, can we talk?"

Chet Cody was a handsome, if somewhat bony hipster with bushy brown hair and sideburns. A red brick patterned zippered hoodie hugged his frame and he sported a green beanie that resembled a parasitic alien from the game Petdroid.

He glanced up from his vintage Wintendo PS, a knowing smile on his lips. "Sure thing, Winona. Just let me finish this level of 'Pixel Panic.'"

Winona Sumac rolled her heavily mascaraed eyes, leaning against the wooden table. She was beautiful even if she gave most people over forty a heart attack with a pile of black spikey hair on her head, an ironic schoolgirl uniform and an outrageous nose ring.

"Seriously, Chet? Can you ever put that thing down?"

"Pixel Panic is love, Winona," Chet quipped, a pair of pixelated sunglasses perched on his nose. "It is life! Just like my vintage vinyl collection and the cassette tapes I have no way of playing,"

Winona sighed, tucking a strand of her spikey, black hair behind her ear. "Okay, Chet. I don't mean to be a gloomy girlfriend, but can you please communicate with me beyond referencing obscure retro games."

Chet smirked, taking a sip from his freshly brewed coffee. "Communication is like a text adventure, Winona. You choose your dialogue options to unlock different endings."

"Bleh, you're impossible," Winona muttered. "And they say I'm thicker than a tombstone in a midnight fog."

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Chet Cody leaned forward, he tapped his head, hoping to indicate a brain inside. "Winona, I sense a disturbance in the 8-bit force!"

Winona grinned, her purple contact covered eyes widening. Was he finally reaching out to her dark, but tender heart?

Making direct eye contact with Winona, Chet was stern. "It's like you're searching for the cheat code to my heart, but the Chet Code is a closely guarded secret."

Winona slapped a hand in her face. "Chet, I'm tired of these gaming metaphors whenever we talk. I just want us to get deeper and more cerebral. Don't you ever wonder about something as lovely as death?"

Chet pretended to stroke an imaginary and ironic goatee. "Ah, the lament of the modern pixelated soul, yearning for depth and substance in an era of 8-bit aesthetics. As for death, the mortal coil is no biggie as long as you have a few extra lives!"

Winona stared at him in disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? You're just rambling on about Satan knows what!"

Chet placed his hands to his temples. "Winona, I'm listening to you like an old school vinyl record. I may not look like it, but I pick up every nuance of your analog voice."

"Ok…" Winona said. "What did I say then?"

"Uh…" Chet mumbled. "Insert 8 bit dying sound?"

Winona sighed. "Fine, Chet, keep living in your retro fantasy. Let me know when you want to talk to a girl who isn't pixelated and automated!"

Winona turned to leave, but as she did, Chet leaned back with a wink. "I'll be here, babe, waiting for you to unlock me like a secret character!"

Winona Sumac did not reply. She had enough for the day. Talking to Chet was like playing a very challenging arcade game and she had used up all her quarters.

She yearned for a more genuine connection with Chet, remembering the day he grinned at her from the stage, playing bass guitar in his very own band.

But that seemed many moons ago.

When she left Le Coffee Shoppe that day, she did not pay any attention to a strange group of thugs heading into the shop. One of them wore an embroidered patch on their leather jacket. It resembled a Pocket Console. They were headed right in the direction of Chet, and little did she know, that Chet was down to his last life.