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gone game.
I beat Terry worse with my left hand and a gimpy right hand than if I was playing with both hands. Luck had a lot to do with it, but after kicking his butt four times in a row with my left hand against his left hand, I let him use both hands and I still beat him 10 out of 14 games.

"What's that under the table?" Terry pointed to a sheet of paper laying in the middle of the table on the floor.

I scooted down under the table and reached over and was just able to get it with the fingers of my right hand and right then I was pretty sure I understood how a crab's brain has to work to move a big pincer out in front of itself, at least that's what I thought it might be like with my cast in the way and all. I handed it to Terry and stood up, lightheaded from being getting up too quick.

"United Games of the Piedmont will be here at 10:45-11:00 to pick up the foosball game. They said they'd call first. Love, P." He started out reading it with a bad imitation of his helium voice and finished sounding as sad as I was starting to feel.

It was my dad's handwriting and looked like a note to Momma. What's going on here?

"Bye-bye, foosball." Terry waved at the table and handed me the note.

I felt like crying.

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