139/365 01/07/365

There is a frantic joy in the desperation. A feeling that comes from the not-knowing like hearing the roller coaster’s last click, click, click at the crest of the first big hill. All thrilling fear. All potential energy. 

Skip Monroe was felling that feeling now. Skint, owed money up and down the strip from $28 he’d borrowed from Gary to cover lunch to $138,000 he needed for a wild real estate investment gone horribly, horribly wrong.