Rock, Paper, and Death
**The scale tipped in my favor. **
My opponent picked rock twice, and that leaves it likely for them to pick scissors. That leaves me with rock. Yes! Rock! But, can they read my mind like I am now? Had they gone paper?
Do they know I’d be jumping rock? Had my life come to an end because I picked rock!? I panted staring the man dead in the eyes, praying.
Maybe I’ll play paper to be safe? Why would he play scissors? We just had a rock
stalemate a round ago. Perfect. Then paper, or maybe scissors to end this thing for good. If he picks rock? No paper. Paper is the best option.
I'm going paper.
The stage was set.
I trapped my breath until my cheeks turned blue, my heart enduring quicker and quicker speeds. A constant drum. I will pick paper. No doubt.
**** **_“Rock, Paper, Scissors.”
_******
**** **_“Scissors!”
_******
**I yelled, sure I’d be dead. The crowd went silent and I figured that I’d be six foot under some random graveyard—God—why’d had I changed last minute? **
My eyelid peered wide and I saw his hand signal: Paper.
“Yes…” I mutter, my heart too banged to speak. I had won, though, I lost my faith in myself. I guess after the stalemate he thought the same thing thing as me.
The thing was, he wasn't indecisive. I guess that really paid off. For now.
“Yes!” I screamed.