129 words: Luck be a Lady


The shot and game clock wound down together like twine. The man gripped his playoff handkerchief, worn and soft like silk. Please. He begged. Let them win this. The woman bought the lottery ticket at exactly 7:49. The time of her oldest daughter’s birth. Come on. She squeezed her eyes closed. I need a break. Someone pulled a name out of a hat and fumbled with a scrunched piece of paper. Every person in the room held their breath, sending a silent prayer to the back of eyelids, to the ceiling, to the shiny shoes dotting the floor. Millions of people prayed each day. Pleaded to her. Relentless, coarse, violent. Lady luck just sighed and laid her weary head in her arms, wishing someone could want her differently for once.




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