The Name of the Game is a Kidnapping

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The moment she mentioned the word “marriage,” I lost interest in the woman. I could only see her large chest, her slim legs, and even her smooth skin as the parts of a mannequin.

I gave her an unamused look and then got out of bed. I put on my boxers that I had tossed aside and fixed my rumpled hair while looking in the mirror.

“What’s with that face?” The woman raised herself halfway up, flipping her long hair. “You don’t have to be so blunt and make such a sour face.”

I wasn’t even in the mood to reply. I looked at the alarm clock. Five minutes before eight in the morning. Just the right time. I switched off the alarm that would’ve gone off in five minutes.

“I’m already twenty-seven, okay?” the woman added. “You could stand to listen to a little of that.”

“I told you I’ve never thought about marriage,” I said with my back still facing her.

“You said you don’t think about it a lot. Not that you never think about it.”

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