In his freshly pressed suit, day-old haircut, and polished black oxfords, he appeared out of place that early in the morning, pumping the high octane into his black-on-black BMW coupe.
“And a SuperLotto ticket,” he said, handing the poorly aging woman at the register a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “Just quick pick it. I’m in a hurry.”
Everything in this fucking town’s run down and dirty, he said to himself.
“Glad to be passing through your charming hamlet,” he almost sneered. She was oblivious to his sarcasm.
“I hope you get lucky and win the whole pot,” she offered kindly as he opened the door and walked to his car.
Win the whole pot, he thought, what the fuck does she know about it? He stuck the ticket in his coat pocket. Luck’s got nothing to do with it.
He was reaching for his keys when the menacing form of a hooded stranger emerged from behind the gas pump, startling him into sudden awareness. Something flashed in his hand. A knife? A gun?
His heart pounded in his chest. Before he knew it, the stranger was close enough to smell his sour breath.
“You know the drill,” he threatened, “let’s do this the easy way.”
He handed over his billfold and watch, failing to remove his wedding band.
“Here, that’s all I’ve got.”
“I’ll take your phone too, as a precaution, you know.” The stranger laughed sarcastically.
“No, I need that phone for business,” he protested. “All my work is in that phone. I can’t let you have it.”
The stranger pressed something sharp against his ribs. A knife, sweet jesus, he screamed inside, I don’t want to be stabbed to death in this shithole town.
“Look, I’ll give you this,” reaching into his pocket and pulling out the lottery ticket. “It’s the SuperLotto. The pot is up to $24 million. I’ve got a hunch there’s a winner here.”
“Well,” said the stranger slowly, “today just might be your lucky day.”
“And a SuperLotto ticket,” he said, handing the poorly aging woman at the register a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “Just quick pick it. I’m in a hurry.”
Everything in this fucking town’s run down and dirty, he said to himself.
“Glad to be passing through your charming hamlet,” he almost sneered. She was oblivious to his sarcasm.
“I hope you get lucky and win the whole pot,” she offered kindly as he opened the door and walked to his car.
Win the whole pot, he thought, what the fuck does she know about it? He stuck the ticket in his coat pocket. Luck’s got nothing to do with it.
He was reaching for his keys when the menacing form of a hooded stranger emerged from behind the gas pump, startling him into sudden awareness. Something flashed in his hand. A knife? A gun?
His heart pounded in his chest. Before he knew it, the stranger was close enough to smell his sour breath.
“You know the drill,” he threatened, “let’s do this the easy way.”
He handed over his billfold and watch, failing to remove his wedding band.
“Here, that’s all I’ve got.”
“I’ll take your phone too, as a precaution, you know.” The stranger laughed sarcastically.
“No, I need that phone for business,” he protested. “All my work is in that phone. I can’t let you have it.”
The stranger pressed something sharp against his ribs. A knife, sweet jesus, he screamed inside, I don’t want to be stabbed to death in this shithole town.
“Look, I’ll give you this,” reaching into his pocket and pulling out the lottery ticket. “It’s the SuperLotto. The pot is up to $24 million. I’ve got a hunch there’s a winner here.”
“Well,” said the stranger slowly, “today just might be your lucky day.”
