Fiction: Two Games of Solitaire

Rocco had spent a lot of time in the dingy warehouse on the lake. He had done a lot of work here – messy work that few other people had the stomach for, even in these dangerous times.

He put down the newspaper, which was a little over his head, and picked up a deck of cards to play solitaire. This, too, was above his abilities, but it was better than pure boredom as he waited for the phone to ring.

“Red seven on the … red nine? No, that’s not right.”

As Rocco puzzled over the intricacies of the game, Pentz sat quietly in his chair and said nothing.

“Black queen on … nothin’. I got nowhere to put it.” He set the rest of the deck back on the desk. “The hell with it.” He looked at Pentz. “You sure haven’t had much to say.”

Pentz proved Rocco right.

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Pen to Paper: Love and Torture

No, that is not a Frank Sinatra song used as the theme for a popular sitcom.

I have been thinking about this for quite a while now. There are words whose definitions we exaggerate to the point of hyperbole in an effort to convey strong feelings. E.g.:

“I love this new book.”

“Watching that movie was torture.”

I’m calling time-out to consider whether these are appropriate uses.

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