A lit cigarette smoldered on the
edge of the ashtray, balanced only momentarily by the tension in the room. The next card would determine the direction
the pile of cash would be slid. Based
on the beads of sweat running from Darrel's face, he needed it to be him. Luck, however, had not been in his corner.
Maggie started to say something
about the precarious cigarette about to burn her table but thought better of
it. This was not a good time to
interrupt. Everyone was holding their
breath. Darrel got a twinge of hope when
he noticed Bruce’s hand shaking slightly.
The phone across the room rang
and startled everyone. It sounded much
louder than normal. Maggie rushed over
and answered it, but in a whisper. Then
she hung up and walked back to the table, standing behind Darrel.
“Maybe we could open a
window.” Jess said, without even looking
up. He was sitting on the other side of
the ashtray and had been annoyed by the smoke for the last half-hour.
“It doesn’t open.” Maggie replied. “They are old wood windows and most of them are stuck closed.”
Betty flipped the final card
over. At seeing the slight grin on the
queen of diamonds, Jess made a sound that didn’t sound human, and he threw his
cards across the room.
Darrel knew better than to reach
for the pot. He was waiting to see Bruce’s
reaction to the queen, but he could feel himself starting to breathe
again. Had his luck finally changed?
So far, Bruce had shown no
reaction to the last card. It was as if
he was in a trance.
“Bruce?” Maggie said, but still
there was nothing. Finally, Betty
reached over and touched his arm. Then
she squeezed it and gave it a shake.
“I think he’s dead.” She mumbled.
Maggie gasped, and Jess reached
over and turned his cards face up. Then
he looked at Darrel and said, “It looks like you win by default.”
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