Games, Games, or the Rat

The diminutive brunette glared and Henry, “Just because our drunk friends are hooking up, does not mean you’re getting lucky.”

Giggles came from the back room of the apartment followed by a muffled, “Kneeling simply ruins my nylons.”

Henry smirked then thought out loud, “I think that was Bob’s voice.” He shook that off and shrugged, “Look, no intentions here, no expectations. We can just talk, or play cards, or…look, Parcheesi—the royal game of India!”

Her lip quivered, and Henry just had time to notice her relatively dark complexion as she blurted, “Don’t you talk to me like that—I’m sensitive!” She made for the door, her gate unsteady on 5 inch heels.

“Um, you might want to stay. There’s usually a rat…”

“Don’t even. You know there’s no rat in the hall.” She fumbled with the door, slipped outside, shrieked and slunk back into the dimly lit apartment. Henry tried hard not to laugh.

“Parcheesi it is then?”

A thump came from the bedroom, and all consideration of board games went on hold.

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