There appears to be some issues with the printing of this Epilogue that no-one noticed, or cared to correct, before releasing it to the exhibition attendees.
The Game of Love ends with a bang!
“Do I win?”,
Talia asks as she swivels to face the small crowd. The gunshot everyone had just heard didn’t seem to bother her so much.
Save for the ringing in everyone’s ears, the room was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Amy and Sonia are stunned into silence at what they have just witnessed. The faint whispers of “he’s gone”, “the floor?”, “a ghost?” create an uneasy atmosphere, until Rogue bursts out in a rootin’ tootin’ cowboy way,
“Well, congratulations partner, you just won the duel! High noon is yours! Hope you all had a hog-killin' time playing Kaboom! Next time you’re here, have a game and drink on us!”
The manager chimes in,
“This is your first shift, you can’t just give things away, it’s bad for business.”
He pauses for a moment, wondering if giving a free drink to a ghost would actually be bad for business, and supposes that ghosts shouldn’t be able to drink.
“Um yay?” exclaims Talia, certain that she has won, but uncertain on what that means, and doubly uncertain on where her opponent disappeared to.
Rogue and the manager natter between themselves in voices that are both hushed and entirely audible.
“You’re thing’s broken”
The manager looks in the vicinity of Talia, “Yeah, gathered that.”, “I saw Gala fall through the floor. And now you've offered free stuff to, I'd assume, Talia.” Noticing talking is going nowhere and with all the woes of managerial duties fresh on his mind, The Manager returns to the shop counter.
“Hey wait!” Talia exclaims, but The Manager does not acknowledge her.
There wasn’t much work to be done at the counter: tallying up the bill for the guests; figuring out the price of a ‘cowboy special’; and opening a tab for the random patron who left mid-game, but their name proves elusive to The Manager’s memory. Shuffling into the employee backroom, a place which does not share the vibrancy of the shop, he begins trying to re-organise the mess Blaine had made earlier in the search for a gun. There was no organisation, everything was stored on nebulous shelves or unlabelled bags, like you could find anything and nothing in there. The Manager does not question his own store, after all, why would he?
Questions are only asked when one doesn’t know the answer.
Back in the shop, the conversation continues between patrons and staff.
Amy bursts into the conversation, shaken from her stupor, “Gala just fell through the floor! What the hell just happened?!”
“…That's the aftermath of losin' high noon, I s'pose.” Rogue blurts, trying to keep everything under control.
One of three women looks at the waitress like she had suddenly grown two foot taller, whilst the other two just seem to accept the cowboy at her word.
“Can people do that, fall through the floor?” Talia wonders.
“I g..guess they can?” stammers Sonia.
“NO THEY CAN’T!” Amy exclaims, her cheeks are almost as rosy as her top at this point. “WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW SOMEONE FALL THROUGH THE FLOOR?!”
The two patrons and the waitress point to where Gala had been standing minutes earlier.
The pink-haired woman felt incredibly out-of-place within the café, as she stares down the cowboy-waitress. As if partaking in her own duel, Amy makes a lunge for Rogue’s gun, with a stylish pivot and a “woah there, partner.” the gun manages to stay in its holster. “Let me shoot the gun! I’ll prove this isn’t right!” The gun remains, rightfully, out of reach of the angry woman.
The manager, having heard part of the commotion, returns to see his employee fending off a customer. For as many mistakes as Rogue had made that day, she was still one of his employees, and so Amy is told in no uncertain terms to pay her bill and leave. The rosiness in her cheeks turns from anger to embarrassment as she looks to her friend Sonia who seems appalled. She tries to apologise, “Wait, I’m sorry can’t we just play Kaboom! again?” but it’s clear she has long overstayed her welcome. Her footprints get lighter as she leaves the store, alone.
The two remaining patrons, who had been strangers not hours before, one ordering a hot cocoa, the other a cowboy special, sit down as if nothing remarkable had happened. The game shop settles down to a peaceful quiet.
Down in the ፪ልነቹጮቹክፕ the noises of the shop go unheard. In fact the all that exists here is a man and an ቹርⶴዐ.
“Where am I” “Where am I”
“I’m ክዐፕ ነ፱ዪቹ this is รยקק๏รє๔ Շ๏ ђคקקєภ”
He checks the ቹነርልየቹ ፪፱ፕፕዐክ, still there, giving him opportunity to run from the featureless box the two reside in. ፕⶴቹሃ ልረሠልሃነ ረቹልህቹ
“You can รቹє?” “I can’t รቹє”
The man speaks to something he believes impossible to exist.
“You shouldn’t ፪ቹ ል፪ረቹ ፕዐ… You shouldn’t be ልነኡጎክፏ ፕⶴቹነቹ ዓ፱ቹነፕጎዐክነ” Once a reflection moves on its own, does it really belong to someone? ᨰ᩠ׅ࠭ჩִᦒ decides what questions can be asked?
The story continues, clueless as to what lies underneath.
Two women smile at each other in the Tower of Cards game shop and café, sipping drinks served to them by a cowboy waitress, the manager sighs as he patches the bullet hole in the wall.
All is well, is it not?