Night

Her

All bets are on the table. All bets in my hand. My heart in my hand. Even more precarious than wearing my heart on my sleeve. It can be taken away more easily. Besides, I am not wearing any sleeves. I feel gorgeous. I feel great. I am winning. So why is there an empty feeling in my stomach? I’d like to dance the night away. I’d like to be in his arms and feel safe. But that is nowhere near to happen. It’s best to stay here and continue betting. As long as I am winning nothing can go wrong. I hate that he just flew off to the poker. Left me alone again. Maybe he knows I’ll be fine. Am I fine? I want to win another round. All bets are on the table and all the men are looking at me and all the women are judging me. I sense interest in the fellow to my right. Is it interest in me or in my winnings? Doesn’t matter, I find it all the same, I have no interest in going off with strangers. Another win, come on. Give me another win. I need another win. And the lights wash away the sleep, or at least wash away the deep night outside and we can all stay here for hours, winning, losing, doing what we do best and believing that the next time we will win again. All bets are on the table.

Him

I picked her up from the tables at a quarter to four. I know she had been winning because of the shining look on her face. She looked radiant. She wore the dress I had given her for her birthday last summer, which showed off all her curves and made her skin look promising and unattainable at the same time. I could recognize the look of appreciation from the fellows that surrounded her. It was the same look I had the night we met. I led her away. I knew she wanted to dance so we cashed in our winnings, headed to the ballroom and danced for some time before the desire to tear our clothes off overcame us. Like teenagers we are, even after four years of marriage. So we didn’t sleep all night. She closed her eyes while I showered, she told me, but she was up and about when I finished and we made ready to leave. Now we drive off into the dawn, just like every year around this day from the time we met, and just like every year we are surprised by the amount of people leaving Vegas at seven thirty as the day begins. It’s our little tradition, and apparently a couple thousand people’s more. So we drive off and hold hands over the shift stick and I ask her if she enjoyed herself and she says yes. And she says she missed me and I tell her that next time I’ll skip the poker and be with her at the tables. And that maybe we’ll dance a little bit more.

~*~

Thank you for reading. This was a writing exercise from my MA in Creative Writing at Newcastle University. We were given four prompts and then we swapped a prompt with a partner, which you both had to decide together on.

My prompts were: 1. Characters: husband & wife, 2. Location: Las Vegas, 3. Activity: poker, 4. Time of day: Night. The prompt my partner and I swapped was the Activity, so I traded my poker for his dancing (go figure!).

I found the story in my files one night when I was looking for something else, and I just felt like sharing!

If you'd like to read more, head over to my profile to read all kinds of pieces I've written on various subjects, or click below for just my fiction. You can also follow the link to buy my short story collection Tales from the Rooftop.

A heart, a tip, a comment or your insights would also be much appreciated, if you feel so inclined. Also, please feel free to share my story with anyone who you think might enjoy it.

Sandra's fiction pieces on Vocal

Buy Tales from the Rooftop here