Around 10pm Billy Smith was reading the French play “No Exit” for the third time, under his covers with a flashlight. For some reason he just loved watching the characters squirm as they slowly discovered what was going on and where they were. It was well into his fifth reading of it when he finally fell asleep. The book pressed against his face and the flashlight rolled away and off the bed hitting the carpet with a soft bamp.
Billy stared at the dice on the green felt, snake eyes. He couldn’t believe it. He’d already rolled three times. This was ridiculous. Sullenly he bowed his head and went to the back of the large queue at the Department of Motor Vehicles. He was crestfallen. At this rate he’d never get his proper driver’s license.