Midnight. Cheryl, Aaron, and I were sitting around the kitchen table playing the final hand of Rummy, anticipating that Aaron would win . . . again. Knowing that the game was about over, the rest of us abandoned any hope of making a spectacular comeback as we accepted the inevitable. I was sitting there minding my own business when the strangest thing happened. For some reason, Cheryl started doing cheerleader fingers across the table. Surely you know what I mean. (more…)