He was watching the draw and sat mesmerised as his numbers came out of the barrel.
He had five and knew he was not only getting lucky but was feeling lucky.
He wanted twenty-eight to win the big one.
His heart was in his mouth; he was on the edge of his seat.
The barrel rolled, the numbers cascaded, was tonight his lucky night?
Then the barrel stopped; there was a number rolling down the chute.
“What?” he shouted at the television, “Twenty-nine? Who in their right mind would have twenty-nine?”
Five numbers got him a pretty good return, but six would have set him up for a long time.
His dad had always told him gambling ‘was a hard game’ and tonight not only was it a hard game but a depressing one.
Each weeknight he played, he wasn’t a big-time gambler, just twenty bucks or so and if he won a small amount, he re-invested his winnings in another game.
There was always the chance of getting lucky, and it would never happen if he didn’t have a ticket.