Date Night on Union Station by E. M. Foner

with excellent vision can pick them out,” Sangrid explained complacently as he completed his perusal of the menu. “The pasta is very good here, and all of the salad ingredients are fresh from the ag decks. Do you have any special dietary constraints, or would you like me to order for you?”
    “You can order, thanks. I eat pretty much everything,” Kelly replied.
    “Omnivorous with stable digestion, that’s very good,” he praised her. “No food allergies that you’re aware of?”
    “No, none at all,” Kelly replied with a grin. “My family tree looks like a forest. I have that hybrid vigor.”
    “And a healthy immune system, I’ll bet,” Sangrid said approvingly, as he tapped on the menu icons to place their order. “I thought a bottle of wine would be nice as well. I hope you don’t have any problems with alcohol?”
    “No, no,” Kelly replied, and took up the game. “I know some people believe that redheads can’t handle their booze, but I assure you it’s an old wives tale.”
    “I knew that color was natural!” Sangrid practically beamed. “I’ll bet that those perfect teeth you flashed earlier are your own as well.”
    “I do what I can,” Kelly replied and laughed outright at the direction of the conversation. If he thought she wouldn’t sit there all night accepting compliments, he was going to find out just how wrong he was.
    “I must apologize in advance for the service being a bit slow here,” Sangrid told her while he fished inside his dinner jacket and pulled out a red velvet sack. “I brought along a little game to help pass the time,” he continued, pouring the contents out on the table and picking out a little wooden block with symbols on the sides. Suddenly he tossed it to her with a flick of his thumb, saying, “Have you ever seen one of these?”
    Kelly’s hand shot up and she caught the game piece right in front of her nose, a feat that surprised her so much that she decided to play it cool and not say anything about the appropriateness of flinging something at your date’s face without warning.
    “I think I’ve seen my friend’s daughters playing this game. Something to do with taking turns building a tower?” she guessed.
    “Excellent. That’s exactly it,” he said as he bobbed his head approvingly. “The trick is, you have to stack them with the surface glyphs matching, but you can’t cover more than two of the red dots on the outline of the glyph at any point.”
    “Oh, I see.” Kelly did a quick survey of the game pieces out on the table. “Do we get to pick them from the pile, or do we pick blindly from the bag?”
    “I’m beginning to think you’re hustling me,” he joked, looking more pleased by the minute. “Flopsie can be played open face or closed face. The gamblers play closed face of course.”
    “Shall I just start then?” Kelly asked. The she carefully balanced the piece he’d thrown at her, positioning its glyph against the identical glyph of a block on the table, leaving two dots exposed.
    “Ah, I won’t give you such an easy one.” He grinned wickedly and stacked a matching block over her play, so that almost half of its weight was hanging over the edge in thin air.
    “Cruel, cruel,” Kelly protested, studying the faces of the blocks for options. Then she made her choice and balanced the block gently on the stack, bringing the mass of the whole back towards the center.
    “Perfect, not a hint of a tremor,” Sangrid proclaimed, then suddenly swept the little tower and the remaining blocks back into the bag. “Wine’s here.”
    “You certainly keep things moving right along,” Kelly observed, as a waiter poured wine into their glasses, then paused to give them a chance to approve of the vintage.
    “Thank you. I’m sure it’s fine,” Sangrid spoke bruskly to chase away the waiter. “I propose a toast,” he continued, raising his glass so high that the bottom of his face was concealed as he whispered, “Can you hear me