Mitchell's Mustard Blog

March 3, 2015

The Pack of Cards. .

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 2:26 pm

The sun peered in through the window, leaving its delicate trail to decorate the copper table. Streamlining across each face on the cards, to give them a glow of life, and a winning spirit. A warmth that compliments the company that surrounds the misshapen, under polished copper table top. The voice and rhythm of Otis Redding bouncing from wall to wall, like a wave, splashing against all that took time to listen and appreciate. But, on this table, the appreciation was intermittent, for the conversation and the cards took precedence.
In no time at all, the sun had retired, the natural warmth had been replaced by a manufactured source. The freshly lit candle flame mischievously popped and danced around, leaving each face on the cards to play an unpredictable game of peek a boo with the shadows. The flicker causing the illusion in the form of a wink from the king, and a blush from the queen. The clock hands spun just like that of the Jeff Buckley vinyl in the corner. His voice swirling, enticing, wrapping the atmosphere in a bow. The sound of ice tapping against the glass, the incoherent background chatter that skulked around looking for a witness. All blending into the walls, the floors, the unimportant. The occasional eye contact over the table as each poker face became that much more predictable, as each face on the cards became that much more playful.
As each cigarette burned away, the whistling wind causing the momentary breaks to become far and few between. Taking it in turns to roll and satisfy the addiction, the menthol filter introduced to the paper from the left, or the right, depending on the which side of the table the offer had come. The soft rhythmic sounds had been returned back to their sleeves, to be replaced with a more upbeat Led Zeppelin, twisting and turning the mellow ambiance into a mischievous foot tapping wonder. As the time became more apparent, the evenings environment starting to stretch and yawn. After losing all account of a victor, each face on the cards retired but not without a fight, the ice sat alone in the bottom of the glass, a plume of smoke had risen from the extinguished candle, just to dissipate like everything else in the immediate vicinity. The evening had drawn to a close, as the faces on the cards left with a smile.

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