“And the arena’s on its feet!” The announcer’s voice boomed in surround sound, and at that moment, her heart soared. This had been a rough season. Despite bright predictions, there were early losses. Some were blamed on a lack of focus, or inconsistency, while other criticisms pointed to injuries.
A player’s body can take a lot of punishment during the regular season. Minor injuries like jammed fingers could put one off their game but were comparatively easy to come back from. Sprains, bruises, fractures, and even a broken nose were common injuries during the season. Even freak injuries occurred, like dislocations from hitting the floor at an awkward angle. These types of injuries littered the road to the playoffs.
He was shouting for her to hurry with the snacks though her arm was still partially immobilized from the dislocation, and the foot fracture sustained during the quarterfinals hadn’t completely healed. The media room was filled with guests eager to witness high definition, on a ninety-eight-inch 4K screen with surround sound. It was a honeytrap of sorts. Those who generally would never condescend to put up with his boorish behavior were willing to overlook a multitude of sins to secure a coveted invitation. These fans were more concerned with how injuries affected gameplay than how they affected the player.
Wading through the crowded room she laid the party tray on the coffee table alongside the river of beer and malt liquor cans. Many of the guests had already stopped making eye contact with her during the semi-finals. Even make-up couldn’t camouflage the distraction of a broken nose. She looked down expecting the howling and rapturous expression of triumph as he cheered his team on, but instead, his hands trembled, and his eyes were red with rage.
“B-but we’re winning, right?” she asked, backing up a step.
“They’ll never beat the point spread,” he growled, narrowing his eyes, glancing from her face to the paring knife she had left on the tray. Rookie mistake. She only blinked once, and it was in his hand. He stood with the knife in his grip, and she backed up another step.
The announcer shouted, “It’s a mismatch on defense as he drives to the hole putting a final nail in the coffin to the home team’s Cinderella season. But wait, wait… he’s lost it!” The crowd’s gasp exploded in surround sound. The knife dropped from his hand, his gaze shifting to the screen as hers followed the knife.
“The shot is up! It’s behind the arc; a three-pointer! It’s Gooood!!
A roar erupted throughout the room as the ball swooshed through the net at the same moment the knife plunged into that open “V” in the neckline of his shirt. She marveled as the jets of red streamers shot into the air then watched him fall to his knees, eyes widening in confusion, then horror frantic as to whether he should pull the knife or leave it be.
The cheers around her turned into screams.
INSTANT NOODLES 