Marc was praying. His hands were in his lap, inconspicuously. But his fingers were intertwined and he was praying.
For the last half-hour, he had been watching this quiz together whit his mother. The candidate, an attractive lady in her mid-thirties, had reached a score just three points short of moving into the final. And now she found herself locked in the Loser's Throne, awaiting the Cascade of Defeat.
Become a member to read the rest of the story.