A spectre exhales in the empty casino.
Binary digits caught in the corner of the eye,
F R A G M EN TS of a past regretted,
Compression of a future long gone.
A profile stalked in the mind, and the twist in the gut that kept it there.
A reminder of desperation,
An echo of obsession.
In a moment the world falls apart and a penitent psyche fractures into a formula of whimpers,
3.14 with hopelessness recurring in clenched digits that beat ineffectually at an immutable equation.
New faces and old friends scroll alike behind the dank glass of a creaking fruit machine,
Never double, never triple, never four, nevermore,
Always her.
Four in a row of a scowling face that once smiled back when the machine was new.
No lights flash.
No jackpot sounds.
No coins paid out.
Just the solitary clunk of faces that refuse to settle, juddering in and out of position.
Clunk.
Click.
Click.
I sigh and insert another coin.