Cherry pits
Data hits the back of her mind like cherry pits spat out the window of a school bus. The questions she posed when she woke up are close to being answered, and not to her satisfaction. How many years must the charade go on before the teams realize the “flag” they’ve been trying to capture is a figure of the referee’s imagination – something the aged patriarch needs to make himself feel needed – and the players are skinning knees and dehydrating for no reason at all, not even the fun of the game, not any more. As she walks home she considers that she should write a song about it, and put it up on Youtube.