I stared at the game of Le Havre on the table – one opponent was in the bathroom, and the other was getting pop. My eyes wandered around the cards, and as I considered my next action, my eyes wandered further.

What was that?

It looked like a character sheet for a White Wolf game – which I knew Rich didn’t play. And even weirder, it had my name! I picked it up and examined it. I nodded – priorities right, mental-social-physical. Good skill set, and I like the vice. But then my tongue clicked in disapproval. I picked up a pencil. “Dude, you spent extra points on Stamina? It’s more accurate as Intelligence.” I erased one dot of Stamina and wrote in a dot of Intelligence. I set it down, went back to studying the cards.

And then, as I heard the fresh asthmatic rasp in my breath, I felt a rush of insight I’d never felt before. I looked back at the character sheet with a sense of uneasy dread. Rich came back in with his pop in hand. He looked awkwardly at me.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”