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April 24, 2006
All in
He had never been a gambling man, really. Yes, there had been the odd bet here and there, a quid or two on the footy matches. But that was safe stuff, wasn’t it. He wondered if that thing inside of you that makes you go all in was broken. He’d only done it once--gone all in, gone for broke, whatever you wanted to call it. He had put his heart down too along with the chips. And it had all ended rather badly, with him broke and broken. He was better now--or mostly so. But that bit that did the choosing, the bit that looked at the odds, then plunked down bets, seemed forever stuck on input, checking faces, counting cards, and broken beyond repair.
Snippet | By jackdas | 4:50 PM
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Comments
neil, are you consoling yourself through writing after a bad night of poker with the boys? was it a bad beat?
Posted by: jeremy at April 25, 2006 2:06 PM
Jeremy, something like that, only I don't play poker. But it was a bad beat.
Posted by: Neil at April 25, 2006 2:29 PM
This caution ruled him, plagued him and left him devoid of all hope. One day, when it seemed there was nothing for him in any direction, he decided that a life lived without risk was a life left unlived. He took a deep breath, and picked up his chips.
Posted by: anonymous at April 26, 2006 9:54 AM
Thank you, anonymous, for that bit of truth.
Posted by: Neil at April 26, 2006 10:13 AM
