The bowling ball rocketed down the glossy wooden alley, its pearlescent skin shimmering, smashing through the pins. A glorious strike and assuring victory for Johann.

‘Not sure how you do it, but good on ya.’ The voice came from his doughy opponent, James Baird, the local sheriff.

‘I’m blessed.’ replied Johann and finished off his beer. A handsome man, tall and angular, fit despite his age, the very opposite of his opponent.

The lawman snorted. ‘Sure… Another game?’

Johann’s ball returned via the shute, shuttering to a halt on the rack, glittering in place. It was a custom cerulean orb, painted with a stylized metal chain around its equator that, despite Johann's prestigious use playing for hours on end daily, never faded. Not even a scratch. If you paid closer attention, the insides seemed to swirl in place.

Johann placed his hand on the ball, shuddering at the touch. It vibrated lightly in his hands.

‘Sure… Should we up the wager?’

It wasn't a question. They always played for money.

‘Hah… Yeah, sure…’

Baird rose, his badge peeking out from his Hawaiian shirt, picked up his ball, and with great effort and little skill, tossed it down the alley. His reward was a grand total of four pins, and a second shot did little to remedy the situation. As he walked to his seat, his eyes glossed over the wall calendar.

‘You know, Johann… It's too bad Ethel couldn't be with us… For your anniversary, I mean’.

Johann's left eye twitched. ‘Yep… It would have been silver, you know.’ His ball smashed through the pins, another strike. Seconds later, it was back in the rack.

The ball vibrated as he retrieved it, its insides swirling visibly. Baird didn't seem to notice.

Johann studied the patterns, the subtle nuances in color and shape, occasionally he could see the outline of a face in the coiling mass.

‘I don’t suppose there has been any developments?’

Baird struggled to get another ball. ‘It's a cold case. In all honesty, Johann… I don't think we will ever know what happened.’

He put a meaty palm on Johann’s shoulder. ‘But if you want me to keep looking, I will.’

Johann studied his friend. The man could barely walk, suffered from cardiovascular problems and yet; he still offered to help find his lost spouse.

He sighed theatrically. ‘I think… I think it's time to let go.’

Baird nodded solemnly. ‘Let me get you another beer.’ and waddled off to the bar.

The bowling ball trembled in Johann's hands, its center swirling like a storm. Johann smiled at it. Holding it close he could still detect a faint pleasing aroma of rose water and menthol. Ethel's favourites.

Smiling, he muttered ‘Fuck you, Ethel’.

The ball shook violently in his hands, and Johan grinned broadly, as he threw it down the glossy lane for another strike.

Pain savaged Ethel's imprisoned soul.