Summary page of Writober challenge: HERE
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A stack of green, shiny chips was moved to the center of the table. Hard to believe that those simple pieces of plastic were worth more than the lives of the many beggars in there.
The little man that moved those was short and bald: to hide his expression he wore a pair of sunglasses that clearly clashed with his blue pinstripe suit. Too bad that the drop of sweat on his right lobe betrayed his emotions more than he had imagined.
A pile of chips twice as high, leaning like a fluorescent tower of Pisa, appeared next to the previous one, overshadowing it. He didn’t even need to look towards the little man to understand that he would collapse soon. He had bet more than he could afford and now he was paying the price. Little idiot.
Jack had destroyed even richer people than him: except when he had lost money on purpose to lower the defenses of his opponents before a big game, he had never lost. And he gambled everything in his life: even his wife, once. She dumped him as soon as she found out, but it was worth it.
A few moments of silence passed before the little runt surrendered with a voice that tried to sound emotionless, in reality only expressing the gravity of his defeat
“… fold …”
He didn’t even look at him. He just smiled, eyes hidden by the wide-brimmed hat, as white as his suit; he put his feet up on the table and, letting out a mocking chuckle, turned his cards: a mere couple of hearts.
The guy was still crying when they kicked him out. Jack hated guys like him: why are you in such a place if you’re not willing to lose?
He had always lived his whole life as a game: sometimes you win and sometimes you lose; but you must always be ready to bet everything.
He hadn’t time to settle again into his chair when a new player came to meet him with the intention of a Heads Up.
That’s strange, someone had turned down the lights … and also the heating, given the shiver that ran down his spine.
“Who are you?”
The answer, from the black-clad stranger, pale immortal face, was obvious and undeniable
“I am Death.”
“Did you come to take me?”
“I am. Are you ready?”
Jack smiled, sliding his hat over his face and settling into the chair
“My spirit is ready, but not my wallet”, he said, starting to shuffle the cards, making them travel imperceptibly from one hand to the other:
“How about a game?”