I’m facing the front. The only door of the room opens quietly. A man wearing monochrome black clothing enters with a blank face. His lack of gesture and body language sparks a
curiosity in me. His leather jacket lies still on his shoulders.  His eyes are empty and still. I’m looking at a mannequin. I don’t even bother asking questions. He cannot be reasoned with. Slowly, his hand rises. He points down at the table that splits the room. He has a steady arm. His movements are few but decisive. I can tell he wants to see my fear. I won’t give him the pleasure. I smile at him. He gives me nothing.     
     No limit hold’em. We approach the table calm and ready. The cards are dealt. I’ve got a pocket pair.  I don’t give him anything. He makes a strong bet with his eyes, telling me he’s
  got the cards. He’s bluffing. I didn’t get this far in life by getting pushed around. I raise over the top. His eyes get wide. He doesn’t like me pushing him around. He calls. I meet him at the turn. We both hit. I don’t give him anything. I know he has the same pair I started with. I can smell his arrogance. 
     He takes me dancing with him. Back and forth to a steady pulse we step. It’s a familiar song. Again, I catch him over the top. He calls. Down the river he hits again. He’s paddling for his life. He doesn’t know it. I’ve got him. He waits. No reason to hurry the inevitable. What it must be like to walk blindly into the street. It only takes one car. One car to end him and I have a tank. He bets.  The fool makes a bet. I raise him over the top again. He stops. The mannequin looks at me. Blank. Moments pass by. He stares. He knows what I have. He calls.
  The cards in my hand drop to the green felt like boulders falling from the hillside. The emotionless face grins. He’s amused. His cards flip over and he gently lays them out. Nothing. He was bluffing. 
    The man stands up and reaches for the inside of his jacket. Stainless steel presents itself as payment. His hand grips the object. He’s not here to play cards. He’s here to collect. He’s going to get what he came for. He wants to see my fear. I won’t give him the pleasure. I smile at him. He pulls the trigger. I’m hit. 
    The ground catches me. I lost. The man hovers over me like a shadow. He beat me. I was playing in the wrong game. 
    The man wearing monochrome black walks to the only door of the room. He walks out the same way he walked in. Nothing changed in him. He’s done this before. I’m not so lucky. The lights slowly dim. Sleep keeps me.  

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