Lucky Jim? by Jennifer Guilliard

Jim's arthritic fingers stroked the lottery ticket in his pocket. He turned on the gas fire. A wispy white hair cloud billowed in the rising heat. He creaked his way into the kitchen where a small burnt pan of yesterday’s over-boiled cabbage still seeped out its sulphurous stench. Maggie wouldn’t have stood for that. The pan took him outside by the handle and led him to the bin. Back in the kitchen, one hand trailed behind his back. The other picked up an empty celebratory bottle of beer. The mirror reflected an unfamiliar crooked smile. You never knew your luck.