IF THE PLAYER MUST DIE

I inevitably ended up sitting on the hood of my mom's car while she and I listened to the future president give his speech.

This was precisely where it happened. I didn't see the future president or anything. I saw someone much more important. In my life anyway.

It was around the time the crowd had erupted in cheers, when Zach Johnson ran away from the football stadium with a beautiful blonde by his side.

They snuck out early and holding her by the hand, she giggled as he pulled her along towards the streets. They went beyond that and ran into the empty city.

For a second, I had been sure that he looked at me. A good solid stare, as if he knew to look for me.

I didn't know what it was that left me with a dragging feeling in my stomach, so I don't understand why the hell I had been sure that he looked at me and then let his smile turn into a flea in my ear.