@ NOZOMI
ISSUE #105 05.03.10

He was going for it. His right hand beat back and forth, back and forth. The concentration on his face was intense; sweat began to form in the furrows of his brow like rain in a ploughed field after a storm. His rhythm quickened, his lips were pursed, one eye was beginning to squint. I could watch-on no longer. “Hello? Do you mind if I interrupt?” His face snapped up.
   “Oh hi,” he said and, looking rather sheepish, removed his headphones and put down the ipod on which he had been playing a game which, clearly unbeknown to him, had required a motion that was inappropriate for a public place, “sorry, I was trying to beat my top score.” Oh, that was what he was beating.

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