Tony Forgot

Every morning Tony writes himself a note. Every morning he wanders out without half of it. Read the note, then pack his bag from the hallway shelf while he shuffles to the door. The shelf is full of things he does not need today, and the worst of them are yesterday's. Fill the bag and send him off early for a bonus, or let him reach the door and hope. Forget anything and Tony loses a smile. Three gone and he goes back to bed. Tony works part-time, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Tuesday is his day off: a green one, a nap, another nap. Evenings bring the gym (probably), games at Pip's, a gig, beach volleyball, a bike ride, a hike, and on Friday, vanilla cupcakes. The notes get longer every couple of days. From week two, look-alikes sit beside the real thing. From week three, Tony remembers one more thing halfway to the door. Once a week, on a bad evening, Tony can have a green one, or one of Pip's space cupcakes: a smile back, and a hazy morning after, with a scrawled note, the munchies out on the shelf, and Tony packing snacks himself. Forget-me-nots buy a peek at the note. Perfect days in a row multiply everything, up to four times. Your score goes on the leaderboard. A run lasts from two to six minutes. Tap on a phone. On a keyboard every cubby has its own key, or use the arrows and Space. A gamepad works too.