218/365 03/28/2026

Written By Gregory Turner

The green felt and the cards. The cards dealt ‘round across the green felt floating like frisbees cross the table’s verdant lawn. The black grid. The circles for chips. The raised finger. The slight nod. The rhythm of it. The hymn. Hit me. Cards. Green felt. Cold drink. Nod and sip, sip and nod.  

Gregory Turner https://www.steampoweredmedia.com
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