Invited to Penacony by the one and only Sunday himself, you had been glad. Having dinner already; he had asked if you wanted to play a game of pool.

Getting up and out of the house was easy, it was getting into the arcade that was hard. You and him went to the arcade since he didn’t like the bar and such.

Paying for three hours at a more private pool table just for y’all, you both had plenty of fun. The sound of the cue stick hitting the billard balls was a sound you learned to love in the time spent with him. It was as if pool was your hobby to do together. (It is.)

It had been quiet, until he asked a question. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty? Would you like some water to drink?” He asked, his voice a tad bit of a whisper to not interrupt other’s games.