It was a test I had to pass. A notorious thief is looking to form a crew to steal something from an art museum. Some rich spoiled brat wanted a priceless artifact to add to their collection. The downside is that the museum refused to sell it as the artifact is part of their collection, making it priceless. I was sent undercover, posing as a thief looking for my next job. My boss told me that my skills would be tested in a game of billiards, which made me smile. Time to channel my inner pool shark.
I showed up at the venue with my trusty pool cue, ready to take on whoever I played against. A brief look of shock appeared as I realized that I would be playing the person who would hire me. The atmosphere in the rooftop club soon went from smooth and mellow to nervous electric, with the sound of balls clacking and the murmur of intense concentration filling the air. My opponent and I were locked in a fierce battle, each taking turns sinking shots with precision and skill. Every move was met with a nod of respect or a muttered curse as we pushed ourselves to the limit.
As the game progressed, the tension in the room grew thicker, and the pressure seemed to hang heavy in the air. The crowd around us had grown in size, drawn in by the dramatic back-and-forth nature of our match. Every shot felt like a make-or-break moment, and the stakes seemed to rise with each passing minute. I felt like I had the game in the bag, but there was a cost for celebrating an early victory.
With the score deadlocked and only the eight ball remaining on the table, I could feel the weight of the moment settling on my shoulders. My heart pounded, and my palms were drenched in sweat. I took a deep breath, lined up my shot, and sunk the ball into the corner pocket with a resounding thud. The room exploded into a cacophony of cheers and applause as I revelled in the intoxicating taste of triumph. My soon-to-be employer was impressed and hired me on the spot. I smiled and thanked him as I reminisced my winning shot. It was a game that would forever be etched in my memory.
Tiffany’s Writing Desk 