Fireworks in the Rain
“I got out of my sadly empty bed, put the coffee on, and stepped into the shower. Usually, it would be an easy choice: The World Series of Poker was going, and the money I made playing the side-games was a truly appalling percentage of my yearly income. But, in the first place, I’d done really well so far, and, in the second, I’d played eight to twelve hour sessions every day for the last eleven days. Even if you’ve been playing poker since the game was invented, which I have, you need breaks from time to time to stay at your best.
Besides, Ren had made a pretty good argument before she left.
So I had to change the world. Trouble was, I didn’t know how. I mean, I knew, in the most general terms, what I wanted to do; but how to go about it stumped me.
Last night, Ren and I stared out our front window at “foreclosure” and “sheriff sale” signs in front of nearly half the houses on my block, sort of like politicians campaign signs in reverse: “Shouldn’t have voted for me!”
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