Games

They lean over their cards, heads close, setting up the game. She takes longer, glancing too often at his hands, his face, his eyes… Guiltily, she begins the game with energy. Double solitaire, the game where two people win and lose alone, together. Although he says nothing, she thrills to see him play, giggling when he blocks her, blushing when he helps, preening when she triumphs. Her game is going well, she flips out cards with an intent half-smile. His game slows—but that’s normal. A card will be played, he’ll get “unstuck.” His game stops, he flips through his cards, same cards, again. She plays quicker, barely seeing her cards, hoping each one will be the one he needs. Not that one. Not this one. She tosses them out with worried eyes, frowning at her cards; she’s winning. She reaches out cards, he seems to recede. She bows her head, too. Tears and cards from her, from him, silence. His hands slow, his face down, eyes hidden. Same cards, flip through, again. She plays, still hoping each card will be the one that frees him, he sets down his cards. Desperate, she faces him, clutching her thin stack of cards, he looks away. He unfolds his legs, walks away. Done. Daniel is not playing anymore.