Narrative

Jenga

The game lies ahead, awaiting us both, sturdy and strong. The pieces all fit harmoniously together, almost as if the pieces had an order and we had just cracked it; it is almost beautiful just to look upon, even more so to be a part of. We sit and stare contemplating our moves, knowing that each move we make will be like a butterfly effect to the next. I scratch my head and deliberate how to play, knowing it would take time and effort to succeed. With that we start the game, piece by piece. The pieces are dislodged with ease, and with not much consequence, we barely realise the mistakes and effect the lack of care is causing. The structure is slowly getting weakened, something that was once beautiful, is now but a skeleton. We sit in silence knowing each other’s mistakes, knowing we had exhausted our tactics; we prepare ourselves for the worse. Knowing with a single action, it could be our last. He prepares for his next move. His face expressionless apart from the wicked look in his eye, as he takes the final piece, no emotion but delight. The pieces start to crumble around me. Everything is falling away. The once exquisite, enthralling and enticing structure, which took so long to build and develop. A structure, which took care and attention, was now long gone. What had we left to show? A loss in trust, a more guarded attitude and a mess surrounding us. We sit in thought and as we do, I realise, even though the end result isn’t as I’d have liked, I wouldn’t have wanted to play with anyone else but you.

Faith Nelson

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