"Who wants to play Scrabble", say I.
"There's five of us", says Francois, "One two many."
"It's actually our fave", says Jeffrey. "George and I could team up. What do you say, Georgie?"
"Are the rest of you chill about it?"
"It's only a game", says Carl.
It is hidden away in my father's den, on the very top shelf of the closet. There are a few dusty surprises in here. I see three different jigsaw puzzles, never opened, one of Monet's Wáter Lilies, another of an extremely tangled and vibrant garden, and one of a dragon curled up in his lair of gold. I believe I must have picked that one when I was twelve, just after reading the Hobbit. On a whim I am carrying this one out with the Scrabble.
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