Pajamas, Bandaid, Knight

No one has said a word and it's getting dark outside. The chicken is roasting and the car is getting vulcanized.

You move.

My white pajamas all white with tear in the knee. A bandaid.

If I move, it'll be the wrong one but I want to keep playing. To wait for the chicken to roast, the car to get vulcanized and my wound to become a scab then heal.

I move.

Then, it happens like I always knew it would.

You laugh and you move and and move and move and I try to say stop, it's my turn, that's not how we used to play, that's all wrong but I can't move my mouth so you keep laughing and moving and I try to move but my arm won't budge and my fingers won't budge and my wound it tickles and I can't even scratch it.

The chicken burns, the car explodes, my pajamas catch fire, you disappear.

I take a deep breath. I Tell myself, "move, move, move." Until finally, my body jerks forward, I grab my knight (the only piece left) and run outside and scream for help.