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The deck of cards seemed alive in my hands. I loved the whisper of shuffling, and the way kings and queens stared back, their faces older than anything I knew. I built castles from fanned-out suits, believing they could hold real wishes. Every card I turned felt like a doorway~ a little spell I was certain I had cast. the accompanying memoir vignette can be read at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/casino_night_13716
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