At a recent end-of-week backyard happy hour, the talk turned to games. The glowing wine cheeks of my across-the-street neighbor turned Casper-pale. “Do you know the game Perfection?” she asked. “My heart still jumps and I’m sitting here nervous just thinking about it.” She drained her wine glass and said ominously, “Play at your own risk,” and then went home.
How could I resist playing? Perfection
