If we were having coffee, we would be sitting here in the near dark with naught but the light of the computer screen and lava lamp. Willie Nelson is playing all his greatest hits for us, and there is a fresh pot of coffee just in the kitchen there. Won’t you help yourself to a cup or maybe a bit of tea if you would rather?
It’s been a pretty good week as writing goes. Work was a bit slower, the weather was a lot better, and on the whole, I had some time and energy at the end of most days to devote to it. Not always a lot of time, but I like to get a little done everyday if possible.
The ball sailed through the air in slow motion. Faster than either of us caught in that horrible time warp of fear.
The cracks in the glass just appeared. Like lightning shattering a clear night sky.
After staring at each other for an eternity, we set to work with the tape. If we did it just right, no one would notice. It was a good job, too. It must have been. We used the whole roll of tape before stepping back, satisfied with our handiwork.
Rosie wrung her hands and began reaching before forcing a stop. She leaned back with a hint of a smile. Her cheeks bloomed red.
The game was simple. Everyone writes their wildest fantasies, pops ’em into the jar, and shakes ’em up. Then the “fun” starts. The fun was figuring out who matched what fantasy, one at a time, until they were all found out.
Rosie glanced at Ken. He smiled wide in return, a knowing twinkle in his eye.
This somehow calmed her.
“Everyone ready?” Barb asked before emptying her wine. “Time to play.”