I was in an awkward situation at the Foundry. Posthumous-lookalike and his friends had struck up a game of poker. I knew I could beat them all, beginner’s ultra-luck, but they were playing for stakes and my conscience wouldn’t allow me to join in. Even when they lowered it to a penny a piece: some memory triggered, a similar situation, somebody I knew had stuck to their guns and refused to gamble for coppers.
Another dream drifted across, of Sarah – Hi Sarah 🙂 – the last time I saw her before she emigrated to the States. I watched her playing poker, she was pressurised to gamble, but was resolute.