I had been invited by one of my great friends, Magalie, to her birthday party. We had always been neighbours, except that in that year we were not going to the same school. Her parents had enrolled her in a private school for girls as I entered high school at a public high school.

I had not foreseen that I would be the only boy at the party. It bothered me at first but it was more because I did not know any of her friends.

This one started as an entry to the Feb 2016 Crush Mini-Competition. The name came from the game (a former, temporary addiction) but the game has nothing to do with the story. As happens on occasions, the story kept growing, and I was only half way through when the competition deadline went whistling past. I persevered though.

I actually thought I hadn’t finished it, so it was a little surprise, when I dug it out earlier today, to find that it was complete, albeit that most of it seemed to have been written on my phone, which meant that parts were all but unreadable, thanks to the Autokorrect Nazis in my former piece of junk. For that, and many other reasons, I will never be tempted to buy a Widows phone again.

Anyway, I’ve spent an enjoyable day reacquainting myself with this little piece, and fixing (I hope) most if not all of the buggerups. I hope you all find it just as enjoyable. Please share your thoughts and feelings at the end. Remember, it takes twenty-six muscles to frown, four to smile, and only one to click on that comment button (then maybe one or two more to add some text). I really love hearing from you. Private messages are good if you want to stay anonymous.

A successful woman is convinced a female lead marriage is the best path forward and as her career is taking off, her unemployed husband is expected to fill traditional female roles like homemaker and nursing mother. In this chapter… Samantha comes to dinner and Eric serves.

“If you wouldn’t squirm so much, Lily, this wouldn’t take so long,” Ms. Bush was saying. Willy grimaced and tried to hold still as her makeup brush jabbed into the skin at the corner of his eye. He wanted to open his eyes so he could see what she was doing—but he’d warned to keep them closed, and he didn’t fancy the idea of getting powder in his eyes. Worse than that, his nose was itching and he desperately needed to sneeze—but he didn’t, terrified that a single sneeze would blow off all the powder and he’d have to go through the whole ordeal all over again.