“Playing too long,” he thinks, “need a break.”
Two steps toward the kitchen he abruptly runs into an invisible barrier.
“What the…?” he gasps.
Stretching his arms, he feels the same blockage, left, right, and behind.
Above floats a softly pulsing number three.
“Oh, no” he thinks.
Hesitantly, he whispers, “Nine?”
“Seven?” he says aloud.
He slams a fist against the barrier and yells, “SIX!”
And even now, panic stricken heart struggling in his chest; with bloodied fists he pummels the barrier, screaming, “TWO! FIVE! ONE! FOUR!...”