Page 124 of Enzo

“Are we really doing this now?”

“Unless you have a better idea to pass the day.” I sit down and get out the wooden pieces. He sits back, trying to suppress the grin I know is struggling to form on his lips. He eyes the Jenga set with suspicion.

“This is going to be interesting.”

I nod in agreement. “Playing with someone, yes.”

He chuckles.

I stack the wooden blocks into a tower between us, and we start taking turns. I go first, pulling out one of the more difficult pieces without giving it much thought. The tower wobbles. Enzo looks horrified.

“What?”

He stares at the tower. “Nothing.”

He approaches this so differently to how I do. I don’t take as long as he does. I look at something, and pull out a piece on blind faith. It usually works.

Enzo stares at it for the longest time, moving his head and examining the block from different angles. He pulls out a piece slowly, and carefully. Sometimes his hand stills, with the piece half in and half out.

Me? I yank it out in one go.

His hand stills again on another piece. I blow out an irritated, impatient breath. This is going to be a long game. “You're taking forever.”

He puts a finger to his lips. Eyes fixed on the block, his expression one of pure concentration. As if he's defusing a bomb instead of playing Jenga. “I’m assessing structural risk.”

“It’s a game!”

“It’s a badly engineered building.”

Ah. This is how he assesses everything. “You’re supposed to enjoy the danger.”

He pulls the piece out, pauses, then holds the piece up triumphantly when the block doesn't collapse.

He looks at me. “That sentence explains a great deal about you.”

I nod and lean forward. “You play it safe. You always choose the block you know will move.”

He cocks his head like he doesn't understand. “That is the objective.”

“I don’t agree. The objective is to find out whether the impossible one might move.”

He blinks. “You're want to collapse the tower. And then what?”

“We build another.”

“Then what was the point of playing?” he asks.

“To have fun.” Are we playing the same game?

“Elaborate.”

“Collapse isn't the end of anything. It just means you start over.”

He sits back. “But you've failed at playing.”

“It depends on why you were playing.”

He narrows his eyes, and goes quiet.