Mike held his breath and closed his eyes. Anxiety curled in his stomach like viper.
He knew that the roll of the dice determined his doom.
For minutes, he reviled himself for the gambling, which overtook his senses.
Going to town with the lads had turned out not to be a very good idea.
A mug of beer became several and a roll of dice turned into several rolls too many.
‘I should have stuck with the coin machines.’ He thought.
‘What will I tell Bernadette?‘
‘How do I explain that I have lost the inheritance.’ ‘That we are heading for the poor house?‘
Like a man waiting for the knell of the tomb bell, the jingle of dices sounded ominous and then it stopped.
Gasps, shifting of bar stools and music in the background sounded louder.
Bracing himself he opened his eyes.
Incredible! By some lucky God of Roulette he won.
‘You lucky son of a gun,’ Todd pounded his back.
‘Well, drinks are on you.’
He collected his winnings, left several dollar bills for drinks and decided to go home.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Etol for the photo and Priceless Joy for your enabling platform.