Never be afraid to get dirty, but be sufficiently sure-footed to avoid the abyss of contamination.

The Table

I fold. I fold. I fold. I fold. He’s starting to sound like a broken record or a Fatboy Slim album. He’s just being conservative with his chips, he tells himself. Better to lose it slowly than all at once. Of course, he’s getting restless, too. Is it time to just leave the table, pack up, and go home?

Ante. He looks at his watch first, and only then does he look at the cards. Hmmm… not tarot, but are they good enough to predict the future? He doesn’t fold, and one other person stays in. Should he raise? How much confidence does he have? All of a sudden, he wants to stay at the table and play this out. He raises, feeling a rush he hasn’t felt in a while and more nervousness than he had anticipated as he awaits a response from the opposite end of the table.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s