Diane hated coffee. Yet, every morning, at the exact same time, you could find her at the local coffee shop, sitting at the exact same table.
On this particular day, she was feeling particularly chirpy. Maybe it was the strong smell of coffee, which she paradoxically loved. Maybe it was that stubborn ray of sunshine that came through the window and ricocheted against the light of her bright red hair, making the shadows dance like a kaleidoscope of tiny butterflies. Most likely, it was simply the fact that he was there.
Jack was not quite the average Joe. He had that bad boy look, a cross between James Dean and River Phoenix, that makes all the good girls swoon. Diane was no exception. Her ivory skin flushed as he approached and sit across her. He was the Clyde to her Bonnie and they never, ever lost.
Tommy and Gina arrived five minutes later. They brought the deck and they swore that this time they would make it. Jack winked at Diane and confidently said, ‘let it roll’. A thousand stories were shared at that table. A thousand stories that only the two of them could hear. A million words. A hundred secrets hidden in the exchange of a seemingly casual glance.
Diane played her last card and hoped for the best. According to her calculations, there was still a trump card out there somewhere. The queen of hearts was on the table, reminiscent of a damsel in distress. Jack followed suit, no salvation there. And even though Tommy was down on his luck and had nothing but a deuce of clubs, Gina brought the pay home – the trump card was hers. As was the hand. And the game. Jack and Diane looked at each other and smiled, ‘Oh well, life goes on…’
They lost for the first time. But did they really?