Writing for Fun
August 2019
The Loser - Maureen Rampersaud
Sweat was pouring down his face which he didn't bother to mop up any more. He studied her, desperately searching for a sign of emotion, any emotion. Confidence or a look of triumph would encourage him to fold. A tremble of the voice or hand and he would up the already high stakes. But, no, she was cool, looking him straight in the eye. He knew when he was out-classed. He almost shouted,"All right, you win, I'll load the dishwasher!"