Jacob knew that he shouldn't go but he felt compelled to put on his coat. He shouted out to his wife he wouldn't be long, stuffed a pack of cards into his pocket and walked out. He liked to have his own cards with him to play. He knew they weren't marked. He didn't trust the others but had to win that money back or the rent wouldn't be paid. One more time couldn't hurt. He thought of the first time he had met them. They laughed and drank together. It was fun. Now it had become more serious, but this time he would win. He felt lucky. It would be a big win and the future would be bright. His coat was not warm against the bitter wind. He would put on his warm anorak next time he thought. He put his hands in his pockets and in the right one felt the cards smooth with edges hard and cold. He pushed them to one side for his hand to find some warmth. He could feel a couple of coins which may be enough for a drink, but hoped that if he had his big win, he would not need them. He felt excited as he got nearer. Tonight would be the night. The alley was dark, and he saw them approach. He raised his arms to protect his head. They kept hitting him… again and again. The cards came out of his pocket. A card fluttered in the wind , and came to rest on his lifeless body next to the coins they had discarded. It was the Ace of Spades.
Flash Fiction July 2021
