Victoria Scacci ( partly fiction)

“There is more,” the manager said. “Your move.”

After three coffees passions started to rise. A brief recess was announced. I stared at the decorative bottles over the counter.

“I am not tired.” I said.

“Santa Madonna, the computer shows that its odds are rising steadily.”

“Are you losing money?”

“Not if you win. But will you win?”

“You play chess?”

“Piccolo. A little.”

“When you go fishing the odds are always against you, right? The fish doesn’t have to be caught. What drives you to go for it anyway?”

“An instinct, I guess”

“ It is the same here.”

I saw my wife through the smoke and offered her a piece of cake.

“Compliments of the establishment,” I said.

“They told me you are here,” she said. “ What is that you are doing?”

“Playing. If I win they will find a place for us to stay. I play a’ lauvegle, blind, pardon my French. That screen shows them the odds.”

“It shows a 70 percent chance of winning for the computer.”

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