I nestle in my bed as her body spoons against me to cradle the swell of my belly. Her touch promises a gentleness that I know is a lie. Yet, I savor the moments I have to spend with her. Our vibrations leave us chattering in a private conversation.
My skin tenses as the god's footsteps approach. Our chattering grows hasty. Her caresses tell of love, but the god separates us. She slides away and I shake. I know what comes next. Her fist.
The door spins as I crash through. Stars revolve around me and light the kickers with blasts of cherry color, the crashes coming faster. Her punch drives me faster, rebounding in our world as I spy god through the grease-smeared plexiglass. I feel the wound she dealt to me more painful than any of the electrical jolts or off-kilter crashes as I careen about my day job.
The god slaps the flipper and keeps me from the black hole where I want to go. The hole that ends it all and brings me back to my love. Regardless, of what she's done, I'm drawn to her.
The god nudges and traps me. The music squeals with a counterpoint rhythm from the digits of the scorecard flapping.
The god is good, but not good enough to keep this pinball from my love. I evade the flipper and head home.
This scene was partially prompted by Tron; but then I went a slightly different direction. Your comments and constructive criticism appreciated.