8,862 words
Roger sat in the gaming room of his local pub with a dwindling reserve of chips in his cup. The feeling of sinking deeper into the irredeemable with every coin inserted gave him an odd thrill, even though fundamentally he knew it was stupid. That was the point. And it made a fantasy come to life in his mind: If he kept losing he could always go home to his flat, pack a bag or two, jump in the car and just drive–just say goodbye to everything and maybe get a job picking fruit, cash in hand. Forget the credit card companies and live off the grid somewhere. (more…)