ElevenWhen your demeanor mimics the name of the game, perhaps it is time to take a break,” a gentleman said, as he approached her table.
Rose had just picked up her new hand and taken a first peek at the cards she had been dealt.
She turned toward the gentleman. “Fungy!” All of her muscles, which she hadn’t even realized were tense, relaxed.
He looked like a breath of fresh air, all in blue and frothy white. And just like that, her breathing eased. She couldn’t help but give him a broad smile. “If you mean to imply that I was looking wistfully at my cards, then, I am afraid, I must admit my guilt.”
“Then perhaps it would be best if you sat out this hand and took a stroll about with me?”
He held out his hand for her to take and she grasped onto it as if it were a lifeline. She wondered
