mafia passion

Keeping my eyes on the screen, I press the buttons on the joystick almost instinctively, while looking for bugs, glitches and

other failures. Besides, of course, wanting to beat up the guy who is beside me and playing as a second player – and not happy,

worth mentioning. Normally, we would hire a game tester, but we need to introduce the beta version in three days. We are

working on this project for almost a year and we have to convince investors that the game has the potential to be a blockbuster

sales.

And everything depends on this presentation. Everything!

“I think we should adapt that part. — Jean, my best friend and co-worker, he comments — Or maybe

there is a bug in the transition between scenarios. - I thought the same thing. - I answer - Let's include that

in the fnal report. We remain focused on our work, making several

breaks and writing down what needs to be corrected, but as soon as I notice

there are no more mistakes, I allow myself to relax and give the beating that

intended from the beginning and my friend also gets into the mode

competitive. It's just not enough to stop me. Jean practically throws the joystick on the couch and groans.

I chuckle at her irritated – and hilarious, expression.

ticket. “I can't believe you won again.

— Well, I developed the game.

"Me too, damn it!" “So you're just a bad player anyway.

My friend gives me the middle fnger and mutters "asshole"

when getting up. Of course I burst out laughing. the way he is moody and hates to lose is ridiculously funny. Although,

I admit, I can't judge him too much, as I also hate losing. I'm quite competitive. Too much, sometimes.

We organized the sheets with the notes in a folder and

we leave the meeting room, aware that we have a lot of work to do

ahead until this Thursday's presentation.

"I think we're going to have to stay overnight." Jean says,

sitting in your chair. "Let's try to streamline a few things here after

pass the report along to the rest of the team and make a

video call when we get home.

He agrees and, without further ado, we place our hand on the

pasta. I graduated from the 'Game Design' course three years ago and

I got a job at the company where I am today, still in my

last year. I started as an intern and reached a permanent position of

designer times later. This is also where I met Jean. He is

four years older than me, as is my wife,

But that didn't stop us from becoming great friends. Being

honestly, he's pretty much the only friend I have besides

from Hajime and Nath.

I was a bit of a recluse in high school. was always

dressed in band t-shirts and all in black. he was shy

too much with strangers and preferred to keep to myself while

listened to Linkin Park albums – my favorite band –

on MP3, hidden in the classroom. Not that I was completely

Isolated, far from it. He did have some colleagues with whom he used to

go out from time to time, but it wasn't uncommon for me to choose

company of books or music. Let's say I was what they called "dark". Being around girls then was an impossible task.

for me. He would get so fustered and fustered that he'd run away before

of being able to say a measly 'Hi!' , which apparently caused

that I would become popular with them. My embarrassed way was

strangely attractive and, while I wanted distance, they

wanted to approach.

Even though my face was considered pretty, my body

was slight and I looked way too young for my age – what

it hasn't changed despite my current 26 years. I just started to

develop even at the age of eighteen to nineteen, when I had

a sudden growth and my muscles were developing

because of boxing. I practically became another guy when I joined

at university, when I decided to really change, to be

more sociable and maybe have my frst kiss and lose my virginity –

I wasn't lying when I said I had serious problems with me.

approach girls. Jean and I extended an hour after hours, however,

we decided to fnish the changes at home. I check on my cell phone

gave Ève time to leave work, planning to meet her for

back together, and it's only then that I notice that he's sent a message

minutes ago saying she's going to be late because she's wrapped up in

workshop.

“I left your favorite dish in the fridge. Love you!" , is what she

responds after I ask if I should buy or prepare the

dinner, followed by “I'm having dinner with the boys”. I stay a little

surprised, yet immensely grateful. She must have done before

to leave in the morning. I need to think of something to repay her later.

I have some very interesting ideas in mind. — Is Eve coming to pick you up? my friend asks. - Not. — I put the backpack on my back — You'll have to tell me

hold on to the subway.

"How lucky for me, isn't it?" In addition to spending the whole day

by your side and doomed to spend the night too, now I'm

forced to look at your face until you go home. —

fakes a sigh — I'm starting to suspect you're married

with me. I laugh. But it's a fact that I'm spending more time with

him than with my wife because of the project; we go to the

elevator and greet the security guard.

"Want to stop somewhere for dinner, then?" - Not worth. Eve left my favorite dish prepared.

- Okay. No restaurant can compete with that. “You should come over for dinner one of these days. What about

after the presentation?

"Aren't you going to run?" I mean, Eve has the job

her, and it would be kind of last minute. - That is true. But whatever, I cook.

"Now that I'm not going anyway." - do one

queasy grimace — I still haven't forgotten what a disaster that was.

thing you insisted on calling fricassê. I have nightmares

until today. "Fuck you!" — I rage — It was the frst time I

I cooked a dish like that. Of course, it wouldn't be perfect. I

I'm not a culinary genius like you. Sorry. - All right. I apologize. I control myself not to curse him and say with conviction: “Believe it or not, my fricassee is much better.

now. - Sincerely? I prefer not to risk it. Jean makes the sign of the cross and kisses her fngers in a fgurine. And me

I want to punch him.

- Wants to know? Forget the invitation and don't even think about

show up at my house. Idiot. My best friend bursts out laughing, calling out to

people's attention on the platform, and puts his hand on my shoulder

before saying: — I wonder how Eve puts up with a person

as moody as you. I point down, and as soon as he looks up even though he doesn't

understand, I show the middle fnger surreptitiously. He laughs again and

I end up imitating; the train fnally stops at the station. Due to the timetable, the carriages are not full, which is

a real relief.

Jean and I said goodbye at Charles de

Gaulle Etoile. Each one goes their own way. I get off the subway and

I decide to take a taxi to the 10th arrondissement [1], the neighborhoodfrom Entrepôt, where our apartment is located. It's not a very nice place

large, considering that space is a real luxury in Paris,

but it suits our needs well. It's our corner. Our home. The main stage of our adventures. As soon as I get home, I fnd the silence of the

Eve's absence. The atmosphere is completely different when

she is. Receptions are noisy and full of kisses, which I

I love it, I have to admit. Besides the occasions I meet her

arguing with the tv while watching series or experimenting

some new recipe in the kitchen. We both take turns preparing

of meals, though, she's a thousand times better at cooking than I am. Their apple pie literally makes me lick the plate. I look at our wedding picture hanging on the wall and

I smile, before walking into the bedroom to rip off her clothes.

a whole day and take a shower and then have dinner.

I always believed that when you fnd true love,

bells would ring the instant my eyes came across

this person. It's kind of silly, I know that, I just got this idea

fxed after watching a movie. And, coincidentally, that's what

happened when I met my wife. However, instead of

bells, it was those bells over the door that rang and that

it didn't even resemble a bloody bell. But, well, I guess so too

it was valid. After all, we got married.

The way we met, in my sophomore year at

Game Design course, it was funny and unexpected. followed

a colleague to the garage where she worked, close to campus, and

not even the grease-stained overalls made it lookless attractive to my eyes. Her hair was long

time and were tied with a blue bandana. There was one

grease smudge on your cheek too, and yet, when

the doorbell rang behind my back, I knew

would fall in love with that short woman.

Whether I want to admit it or not, I am a very romantic person,

those who believe in love at frst sight and soulmates.

Everything that most consider balela or even a little tacky.

Eve was my frst in everything. My frst kiss, my frst time, my frst

girlfriend. And today, more than my wife, it is with her that

I share my other frsts. Although my parents were a little reluctant with the

our decision to marry, considering my young age in

time, they adore Eve and say the best thing I did,

went to marry her. Sometimes it even seems that she is their daughter, instead of

from me, from so much that they pamper her. all attention