Think inside the box. It’s nice and quiet in there. Really good place to get some thinking done.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, it’s happened to all of us at some point in our lives. We met someone. We felt something. But we did nothing.

For example, just the other day, I was buying batteries at Prepper Mart for our family bug-out bags when I made eye contact with another shopper before realizing we went to school together. Naturally, I immediately looked away and left the store. But then I realized I should have just said hello. Made small talk. Found out what she was up to these days. Maybe we would’ve had a lot more in common as adults than we did as children and gossiped for hours about people we used to know and ended up new best friends.

I mean, [snort laugh] I don’t actually feel that way. I was just using that as an example. I completely stand by my decision to avoid Cindy Peterson. Keep it moving, Cindy! But some people do have encounters with other people that they wish would have resulted in a greater level of human connection. And sometimes those people feel the need to make one last ditch attempt to rekindle those lost possibilities.

I’m talking about a personal ad that someone posts in the hopes that the other person might see it and respond. Or maybe they’re just trying to get that feeling out of their system the only way they know how—an embarrassingly public way.

Either way, I’m pleased to announce Missed Connections as a new feature here on Night Vale Community Radio, soon to be as familiar to you as the Community Calendar and Traffic and the Poison Earth Advisory. To kick us off, we’ll be dedicating today’s show to all your chance encounters, wasted moments, pinings, logings, and near-misses. But first, the news.

The Hazy Mirage Tanning Salon has been shut down. The minimalist health spa, which featured a sprawling field of bare dirt tucked away inside a shadeless compound, failed an inspection by the Health Department on Monday.

Among the list of infractions were: failure to provide an exit, too many vultures, and possession of three times the legal limit of human bones and skulls. There were no staff members on duty at the time and it’s unclear if there ever have been. The Hazy Mirage operates on a self-check-in system, in which relaxation seekers enter through a medium-sized hole in a barbed wire fence. As ownership of the salon is unknown and is therefore difficult to shut down officially, the Health Department asks that you please just stop going there.

In horticultural news, there’s something moving in the willows. They rustle and murmur. They tremble and sigh. If you walk past the willows, you will be filled with yearning for all the things you’ll never have. There’s something moving in the willows. It is unnatural, but very real. It is not the wind. It is not a bird. It might be a possum, who frequently build their nests under the cover of low-hanging branches. If you see a possum in the willows, do not touch or feed it. No matter how cuddly they appear, they will rip your eyes right out of your face every time. This has been a message from Fish & Wildlife.

Now, for our first round of listener missed connections.

You were driving a yellow Honda. I was in a silver Ford. We shared a moment of acknowledgment as you passed me. The highway was slippery from gallons of marinara sauce that had spilled out of a jackknifed semi. You were going too fast and almost hit me, then cut right in front of me, spraying tomato all over my windshield. I was too shocked to do anything at the time. But I now really wish I had honked at you. If this was you, please come to the Ralphs at 6PM today. You don’t have to stop. Just drive by slowly. I’ll recognize your car. I’d love to blast you one with my horn and yell a swear word that only I can hear. I think that would give me a lot of closure about what happened between us.

Aw. Adorable. Hope you two can reconnect. Here’s another one.

We successfully pulled off a heist and you disappeared with the money. Everyone told me not to trust you but I didn’t listen. The red flags were there. I ignored them because you had a lot of good qualities. Calm under pressure. Not too smart but able to follow instructions. Good driver. But you were also secretive. Disloyal. Never wanted to hang out beyond memorizing blueprints together. I should have known better and that’s on me. But I’m not going to just let it go. Are you kidding me? I put in months of planning and hard work to pull this off. I will find you, Sebastian. And it’s not just about the money. It’s also about the jewelry and the priceless stamp collection and the diamond-studded elephant tusks. And the beanie babies. Obviously those weren't worth as much as we’d hoped but it’s not just about the beanie babies. It’s also about the principle of it. And also about the jewelry. And the tusks. I would say “watch your back” but that won’t do you any good because you won’t see me coming until it’s too late, Sebastian.

Oh hey, I wonder if the writer of this ad is talking about the Sebastian who wears a fake mustache and is always down at the bus depot trying to leave town, even though no buses ever leave Night Vale. Not sure if that’s who you’re looking for, writer, but hopefully you two can find each other and work things out!

Oh, and speaking of how hard it is to leave and enter town, I did want to mention a quick update on the current food shortage crisis here in Night Vale. As many of our malnourished listeners are aware, the import of all perishable goods to the city is now at a standstill. But this is not a big deal and totally fine, the City Council has asked me to assure everyone, because canned soup still exists. And when the canned soup runs out, there’s a two-week supply of emergency canned soup. There used to be a four-week supply of marinara sauce as well but we lost it in an accident on Route 800. And since pasta is nothing without marinara, we threw the dry pasta away. But the emergency soup is still holding steady. It’s reduced sodium cream of asparagus. It’s technically expired but it’s been sitting in the sun behind the bowling alley for several years now, so it’s all warm and ready to go whenever we need it. Hopefully that helps calm some of our citizens’ anxieties.

Now, we’ll take a short break to welcome resident brand ambassador Deb, a sentient patch of haze, with a word from our sponsor.

DEB

Thanks, Cecil. Have you ever had a loved one die unexpectedly and wondered, geez, now what? Look no further than Crate & Barrel. Located at the corner of 5th and Shay, Crate & Barrel is Night Vale’s leading purveyor of discount funeral supplies. They have all manner of both crates and barrels, in a wide selection of human sizes. From the smallest fruit crate to the largest oil barrel. Simple. No frills. None of this polished mahogany with brass fixtures and satin lining and pretentious names like The Executive or Royal Serenity. Crate and Barrel provides the exact same services as the folks over at Casket & Coffin, but for a fraction of the price. Don’t let your emotional distress allow you to be taken advantage of by the first predator who pretends to care about you. Don’t mistake spending large quantities of money on someone as a symbol of how much you loved them. Why be all fancy with something you’re gonna immediately put in the ground and cover with dirt? Crate & Barrel. Just get ‘er done.

CECIL

Thanks Deb!

Back to your missed connections.

Mexico City, 1951. I boarded a train for the town of Zamora. It was a hot night and I soon fell asleep. When I awoke, I was alone and the train stood empty in a barren desert. My mouth was dry and I felt a dread I could not explain. I exited the train. It pulled away, though it appeared to have no driver. I waited for days. No train returned. Eventually the track was overgrown with weeds, then buried by sand. I am still trying to get out of this place. Please, if you can hear this, someone help me.

Good luck, writer! I’m sure another train will come along soon. I remember sleeping past my bus stop once. I had to walk ten blocks to get back home. That was super annoying, so I totally get it.

Got another one here.

I’ve known you for a long time. Longer than you think. I don’t mean that in a creepy way, but I’ve felt myself moving toward you for what seems like forever. At first, I couldn’t even see you but then, all of a sudden, you appeared. A tiny blue dot in space, getting bigger all the time. Not just blue, but covered in water. Covered in people and animals and wars and forests and a lot of plastic garbage for some reason. Kind of a hot mess, but still cute. I was on fire, absolutely laser focused, and hurtling towards you at 55,000 miles per hour. Then, right when it seemed like impact was imminent, you were gone. We may not have connected this time, but next time, I know we can make it work. And by that I mean, destroy each other completely.

Wow, kind of a thirsty one. But you know, listeners, I was expecting our Missed Connections to be a little more on the romantic side. I don’t think we’ve gotten a single really sweet one so far. I’ll be honest, I’m a little disappointed, so let me just flip through the rest of these and see if I can find something cute as a nice palate cleanser for us.

While I do that, let’s go to the weather.

[The Weather]

Now, our final installment of today’s Missed Connections. I haven’t read through the whole thing yet but it looks like a nice romantic one! Yay! Finally, geez. Okay, here we go.

We met in line at the Arby’s and talked about how the Spiderwolves are doing this season. You ordered the Cattle Rustler Cowboy Bowl with ranch tots and gravy, and invited me to sit with you. I did, and immediately began rambling about myself and nervously tearing little bits of paper off my takeout bag until there was nothing left but a pile of scraps that blew all over the place when the air conditioner kicked on. You made a joke about it, but not in a mean way. I got brave enough to ask you a few questions about yourself. I made you laugh, I can’t remember how, but it made me feel good.

Then our eyes met and it was like time stopped. Literally, everyone in the restaurant seemed to be frozen in place. Then the roof above us completely disappeared and bright lights filled the room. I wanted to ask you so many more things but I couldn’t speak. None of us could. We were stuck there, hands mid gesture, unchewed bites of ranch tot in our mouths, thoughts half-formed in our minds.

What do you like to do for fun? I wanted to ask. What part of town do you live in? Are you seeing anyone? But we could barely even see each other anymore from the blinding light.

What…TV shows…do you like? I tried to ask you, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Your eyes were rolled all the way back in your head. There was a smell like burning leaves on a fall afternoon.

Then I was ten years old, raking leaves into a pile in the front yard while the wind blew them away again, like paper bag scraps caught in an air conditioner current. “It’s like Sisyphus,” my big brother said, and I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t want him to explain it to me, so I just nodded and tried to rake faster.

Do you…want to see a movie…sometime? I struggled to ask you, back at the Arby’s, but the leaves and paper scraps were swirling everywhere and I couldn’t see anything and still, no words would come out.

There was a rapid flash of color and a vibration we could all feel in our bones and tears poured down our faces and the leaves were all over the driveway again. The streetlights came on. Dark clouds rolled across the sky.

“Time to come in!” our mother called from the doorway, and my brother and I dropped our rakes and ran inside. We were having Cattle Rustler Cowboy Bowls with ranch tots and gravy for dinner.

My dad talked about his day at the office even though he worked in a cement mixing plant. There was a dog under the table begging for scraps, even though we didn’t have a dog.

I have…Sundays…off, I tried to tell you in the Arby’s, hoping that you’d suggest we meet up for coffee or to go for a walk. But still, I couldn’t speak and your hair was sticking straight out with static and the air was too thick to breathe and everyone was making wheezing sounds.

“How was school today?” my mom asked, and I couldn’t remember ever going to school. I didn’t know who my teacher was or what we had learned about, I couldn’t remember recess or lunch or who my friends were. She stared at me, smiling and waiting. Everyone at the table was staring and smiling and waiting. The dog that we didn’t have licked my ankle.

Maybe we could…exchange…contact info? I tried to suggest to you in the Arby’s, but it came out sounding like [zombie guttural moaning].

Your face was a blank shadow.

What’s…yourrr…naaaammee? I tried again, desperate for information about you, but my tongue was three times its normal size and you were fading into a violet silhouette.

Then I was standing in front of my childhood home again, but the leaves were back on the tree, and I was not a child anymore. Another family was living there. I could see them eating dinner through the window. I ran back to the Arby’s, thinking of you the whole time. But when I got there, the staff was mopping the floor and listening to nu metal and locking up for the night. You were gone.

If this was you, please let me know if you’d like to finish our conversation. I’d love to get to know you better. Go Spiderwolves.

Awww. I knew I’d find a cute one if I looked hard enough. I can tell you from experience that Arby’s is the most romantic restaurant in America and relationships forged there tend to work out.

And hey you two, if you do end up getting together, please come down to the station before your next date and pick up a complimentary heap of ranch tot coupons. Arby’s keeps paying for their advertisements with these and insisting they’re just, quote, “different dollars”. Anyway, I have too many now and the bank won’t let me deposit them anymore since my brother-in-law Steve left his job there. Also, that big heist awhile back made them tighten up their regulations.

Well listeners, that’s it for Missed Connections. Feel free to write in with yours and I’ll be sure to read them on the air next time.

Until then, stay tuned for something moving in the willows. Spoiler, it’s definitely not a possum.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

PROVERB: Actions speak louder than words, unless the action is talking, then it’s about the same.