A New Game
Weird.
So I come home from work to shower and change after a few more than a few after-work drinks. I open the door and, in my living room, my roommate Ryan is sitting on the couch staring at the wall in front of him. There's only a dim lamp on and I can barely see his features but he looks pretty intent and focused in his dormancy. In front of him is one of those 1950s TV dinner trays with the legs attached. On top of it is the glass chess set my Bubbe gave me three Hannukahs ago that I don't know if I've even opened myself. It's in front of him, with a handful of clear pieces in front of it and a handful of opaques to the left. On the right of the board is his cell phone, a silver Kyocera with a thick antenna. I used to have one myself, it's the model you get from US Cellular for the interim while they fix whatever's wrong with your current phone. He was making a point not to look at any of it, just straight ahead, off into space. Even when I looked at him, stared incredulously and exaggeratedly trying to turn his head... nothing.
Then, his phone started to dance across the tray. vvvvt vvvvt vvvvt He jumps back into lucidity, picks up the phone, looks at it, and moves one of the foggy bishops across the board and snags a clear pawn, grouping it with the others in front of the board. TRhen goes back to staring.
"Hey...Ryno."
"Oh...oh hey, man. What's goin' on."
"Nothin', just changin shirts then meetin up with Amy at L & Elle's for some drinks. Who was that on the phone?"
"Wrong number." He was, of course, lying and not even trying to make it sound believable. I coudn't figure out why he was being so weird, but whatever he was doing it wasn't going to affect me so I let him have it.
"So, whatcha doin'?"
"I'm playing a game." Me too, I thought to myself, getting frustrated.
"Chess?" I asked, just trying to make conversation.
"No," he said coldly, almost as if he was surprised, "I'm playing a new game." And with that he brushed me off with a quick pardon me look, turned around and started typing on his phone, intently.
Whatever, I thought. I was gonna ask him to come out for some drinks but fuck it. I don't wanna deal with him all night. Too much like babysitting. Hopefully he'll be back to normal by the time I come home later. For that matter, hopefully I don't come home later. And I don't know who he's playing, but my money's on Ryan. If he loses as focused as he is it'll be a damn shame.
'
So I come home from work to shower and change after a few more than a few after-work drinks. I open the door and, in my living room, my roommate Ryan is sitting on the couch staring at the wall in front of him. There's only a dim lamp on and I can barely see his features but he looks pretty intent and focused in his dormancy. In front of him is one of those 1950s TV dinner trays with the legs attached. On top of it is the glass chess set my Bubbe gave me three Hannukahs ago that I don't know if I've even opened myself. It's in front of him, with a handful of clear pieces in front of it and a handful of opaques to the left. On the right of the board is his cell phone, a silver Kyocera with a thick antenna. I used to have one myself, it's the model you get from US Cellular for the interim while they fix whatever's wrong with your current phone. He was making a point not to look at any of it, just straight ahead, off into space. Even when I looked at him, stared incredulously and exaggeratedly trying to turn his head... nothing.
Then, his phone started to dance across the tray. vvvvt vvvvt vvvvt He jumps back into lucidity, picks up the phone, looks at it, and moves one of the foggy bishops across the board and snags a clear pawn, grouping it with the others in front of the board. TRhen goes back to staring.
"Hey...Ryno."
"Oh...oh hey, man. What's goin' on."
"Nothin', just changin shirts then meetin up with Amy at L & Elle's for some drinks. Who was that on the phone?"
"Wrong number." He was, of course, lying and not even trying to make it sound believable. I coudn't figure out why he was being so weird, but whatever he was doing it wasn't going to affect me so I let him have it.
"So, whatcha doin'?"
"I'm playing a game." Me too, I thought to myself, getting frustrated.
"Chess?" I asked, just trying to make conversation.
"No," he said coldly, almost as if he was surprised, "I'm playing a new game." And with that he brushed me off with a quick pardon me look, turned around and started typing on his phone, intently.
Whatever, I thought. I was gonna ask him to come out for some drinks but fuck it. I don't wanna deal with him all night. Too much like babysitting. Hopefully he'll be back to normal by the time I come home later. For that matter, hopefully I don't come home later. And I don't know who he's playing, but my money's on Ryan. If he loses as focused as he is it'll be a damn shame.
'
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home