Despite a minor hiccup, I’m pleased to bring you the first piece of micro-fiction featuring Marcus and his ethereal Partner, Benjamin. Instead of trying to tie this into the larger story, I leaned into a small, friendly poker game. While I’ve seen scenes peppered throughout television and movies, I ignored them for this take. Instead, as the story flowed through me, I walked through my memories until I settled back in my college days sitting in the dorm’s common room with a bunch of guys playing with the other broke individuals. However, since this fictitious tale features a shade, I got to explore some fun hijinks.
Come, sit down and allow me to give you a mini-escape and kindle your imagination.
As the emerald light swirled about the other six players, Marcus lifted the corner of his cards as he tapped a chip against the table. When he released the edges, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. “What’s required to continue?”
The officer sitting across from Marcus thumped his hand as his thin smile intensified, revealing deep dimples. “It’s two hundred to you.”
The verdant motes stopped their dance and raced behind the smirking cop, coalescing into a solid form. “Despite holding trip sevens, Harrison will fold if you can convince him the river netted you a flush.”
Marcus piled several chips into a pair of stacks and slowly tapped each one as his eyes locked onto Benjamin’s. “I don’t need your suggestions.”
“The bet wasn’t a suggestion.”
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