Headed upstairs to see what's cooking on the top-floor (i.e. the attic). There are thirteen people here—way more than I expected. Eliza and Marissa wax poetic about their city jobs while sipping Blue Points. I'm at the top step; they are slightly too close to the entryway considering the amount of open space surrounding us. At the far top-leftest corner is Edmund, his big swarthy body sprawled upon the mini-sofa. My eyes now set upon an inspired match of beer pong. Two girls I don't know face off against my good buddies Theo and Sean. Two cups remain for each pair; Sean launches a ball that glides ten feet past the table and clanks with a window-shade.
On the right side of this big, claustrophobic room is a setup for poker. Matt, Nico, Warren, and Trevor sit hunched over a green-clothed table, their social and emotional vulnerabilities stashed away from the rest of the field. Nico lays down a pair of 2s that mated gracefully with the river; he pumps his fist and rakes in a hefty pot. Allison and Luke make up the final two attic denizens. The former is shadowing the beer pong girls; the latter is changing the song on the communal iPad. Where is he going after that? What's his story?
"Nick," he calls, as "The Whistle Song" whittles away the night.
No comments:
Post a Comment