A Nondescript Card Game

The cards in my hand are fanned out, bright suits and ranks shining red or black against stark white. The thin, fancy excuses for paper beam up at me in full confidence, and I giggle as I lay the hand down on the green felt table before me, spreading them to emphasize each card. They hold no value. No strategy in the hand I played. No point in bluffing. I saw competition and cleaved myself from it. Across the table, my wary companion eyes me with guarded eyes, reminding me once again that I’ve overplayed my hand. She makes no move to show her own, a slight tensing of her grip implying the opposite. A twitch of her lips betrays her though— one aspect of my hand must have gotten through! She takes in a breath, slow and measured, eyes not leaving mine as she places a single solitary card on the table, face up: the Queen of Spades. It’s placed in front of my Queen of Clubs, and I look back up to meet her gaze, my face beaming with gratitude. I don’t need to know what else she holds in her hand. I already know everything that matters— neither hand is better than the other. We both know we draw from the same deck. I have no regrets putting them on full display. We both win.

From Virgo to Libra

The canvas appeared blank but upon closer inspection there were several boxes— wait— compartments actually— that were lightly traced upon the surface. I squinted as I roamed the canvas for each lightly drawn compartment, then sat back with a sigh of relief. So organized, I thought to myself, eyes closed, and a contented sigh left my being. SMACK. My entire body lurched forward in my seat at the sound of something hitting the canvas. It was a disembodied hand, dipped in a fistful of acrylic color paint, smearing its chaotic rainbow in rebellious delight. A faint knot of irritation appeared in my belly, and the peace I had felt momentarily slipped away. I stared at the hand before me, the canvas unaware of the atrocity that had befallen it. The majority of my lightly shaded boxes had all but disappeared- there would be no more evidence of them under the bright blues and hues of the acrylics. Now what? I thought.