I know it’s just a board game.
But Monopoly is the one I always come back to.
We pull it out when everyone’s around, and there’s just enough time to pretend we’ll finish a game. We won’t.
Someone always lands on Mayfair, someone always rolls snake eyes, someone always tries to be fair and ends up last. We joke about charging rent and hide our glee when someone lands on our hotel. And then—almost inevitably—someone tips the board, or says they’re done, or just goes quiet and doesn’t look up again.
It’s meant to be a family game. Something light. But it never really is.
I read somewhere that Monopoly was designed to show how damaging monopolies can be. It was supposed to teach people about injustice. But we all learnt something else. How to hoard, how to drive up rent, how to smile while someone else goes bankrupt.
And still we say, “Let’s play.”
It’s strange how we gather around the table like that.
With people we love.
And play a game where only one person wins.
Nobody ever says that’s the reason we’re playing.
But nobody really questions it either.
Just like real life.
The Afterword 
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