Every time he spoke, my eyes found him. I couldn’t help it. I knew what it had taken for him to accept the invitation, to walk through the front door, and to sit across from strangers. Each word he offered was a gift, and I refused to let myself miss even one.
When we finished dinner, we moved to the living room. Micah sat beside Ezra on one side of the sectional, while Oliver and I claimed the opposite end.
“Micah and I thought it might be fun to play a game to generate some conversation and camaraderie without any pressure to reveal oneself. This is a game of our own invention and requires no board, no cards, no timer, nothing. And Luke, this is the perfect opportunity for you to show off your own ability to spin preposterous tales as you so claim.” Ezra gestured to Micah to pick up.
“We call it Story Relay. Think of it as narrative adlibs, but with elevated flair. We’re going to collaboratively tell a story, but here’s the twist. Each person is only allowed to narrate four words at a time, then it passes to the next person in the circle. No planning ahead. We follow the story wherever it leads, nomatter how absurd or deranged it becomes. Any takers for this story-telling mission?”
“I’m so in,” I said. “Prepare to weep over the magnificence of my narrative thwarsion powers.”
“Thwarsion?” Ezra asked.
“It’s a word now. Recognized in the dictionary.”
“Luke, how many times do I have to tell you, the Urban Dictionary doesn’t count,” Ezra said.
“I’ll have you know it’s recognized by both Webster’s and Oxford.”
“If we’re inventing words now, it’ll make this story more interesting,” Micah said. He turned to Oliver. “You in?”
“Yeah, I’m in.”
“Four companions. So be it, we shall be the Fellowship of the Narrative,” Micah declared.
Ezra tapped a knuckle against his glass like a makeshift gavel. “And so begins our quest, forged in absurdity, and ultimately doomed to dissolve into cackling.”
“We’ll move clockwise,” Micah said. “I’ll start, then Ezra, Luke, and Oliver. Ready?”
“Ready,” we all replied in unison.
“Deep in the void,” Micah began.
“Lurked a dreadful beast.”
“Made up entirely of . . .” I said.
“Carnage and liquid licorice,” Oliver said.
“Specifically black, to deter . . .” Micah added.
Ezra picked up the thought. “Those weak of palate.”
“From seizing the sacred . . . “ I said.
“Vine of everlasting sweetness,” Oliver finished.
“Also guarded by demonic . . .” Micah said.
Ezra steepled his fingers over his face like some maniacal villain. “Minions. The most powerful...”
“Was Brutis the Destroyer,” I said.
“There was also . . . Kevin.”
“Kevin?!” Micah exclaimed.
Oliver grinned. “Every evil collective has a Kevin.”
“It’s true. Kevin’s the one who always forgets the nefarious group texts,” Ezra said.
