The exact moment a rack becomes unplayable

It’s 5:12 a.m. and I’m staring at a rack with Q, Z, and two J’s — not even a single vowel that isn’t a Y. The kind of rack that doesn’t just fail to bingos, it mocks the idea of possibility. I keep turning it over in my mind like a stone, wondering if there’s some hidden path through the alphabet I’ve forgotten. But no. There isn’t. Just silence, and the quiet certainty that this game is already lost before I place a tile.