I Lose Connections

After a perfect streak, I lose Connections.  I get the first two groups of four quickly:  “Mismash” (hash, jumble, medley, stew) and “Go Up Against” (challenge, confront, face, oppose).  But then I force the third group into all belonging to something that means bridging, or something like bridging.  On the news, civilians are trying to cross the border but the gate is closed.  Even though time is running out I keep playing the game, clicking from the news back to Connections.  Isn’t “fret” a way to make a passage even if it requires a rubbing away?    I know “neck” connects the head to the body.  I know “hatch” surely links one area to another.  “Clutch,” I know, is a stretch, but feels emotionally sound.  Noah is home sick for the second day in a row.  I press submit and the words gather and then like opposing magnetic fields repel.  The words don’t belong to each other.  The words “next time” appear, which means I lose.  The categories are a “Group of Offspring” and “Guitar Parts.”  “Fuck,” I mutter.  “Mama, you owe so much money to the curse jar it isn’t even funny.  You owe thousands of dollars and you never ever pay.” 

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