It came to rest on .
“What do you do with the Tuesdays?”
“Tuesdays?” I asked.
The breadman smiled. His teeth were doughy, uncooked. “Then you know the game.”
I rolled the die.
“Eat,” he said. “You’ll need your strength for next Tuesday.”
The breadman clapped softly. Flour puffed from his palms. “Game’s begun, player.”
