“Eight,” Kael calls out when the plastic clicker thingy stops the disc from twirling. He’s lounging on his side, head propped up in one palm, a cocktail dangling in the fingers of his other hand. He’s been acting strange all week—distracted if I had to put a word to it. He says it’s work, but I’m not so sure. I’d hoped a fun, relaxing game of Life would lighten him up. We used to play it all the time as kids. I’d whip his butt, although I think he really let me win most of the time. But I don’t think it’s working. It’s our second round and he seems tenser than ever. I dutifully move my yellow, six-passenger car eight blocks, counting them off out loud as I go. I moan about all the Life tiles I’m leaving behind on the way, seeing if I can get a rise out of him. Again, I fall flat. He’s stoic, staring at the board, clearly lost in thought. My eight takes me past the “Get Married” space, but I have to stop to take a spouse. When I pluck a pink figure and put her shotgun, he doesn’t even bat an eye.
