Between Us

Zaid is eighty, Masa is seventy, and somebody finally came to ask how you managed it. Twenty questions, each one put to one of you and answered by the other, in their voice. Typed blind, revealed together, printed at the end.

One phone between you, a question on each side. Four rounds of two-way picks that start with coffee and end somewhere honest — tapped in secret, revealed together, then a number for how much of you is the same person.

Three frames, a countdown, one strip. Step in, pick a mood, and leave something behind in the memory booth.

A short race up nine steps, head to head. Questions about each other, judged by each other — worth more the higher you climb. Winner picks the spoils.

Ten questions, four choices each, one subject: Zaid. Scored at the end, no mercy.