Investment Into Chance

He pulled up to the gas station that morning at 6:17am. It was Thursday and he was making a stop before going to work at the nearby mill. He had 3 minutes to spend 5 dollars before a 10 minute drive to work. The support attached to his truck, to step on before reaching the ground had been wearing away ever since his black S.U.V. turned five years old, ten years ago. Avoiding the support, he shifted his body and made a tiny leap. He landed, knees bent and hunched forward like a gymnast would have done on a jump ten times more difficult.

The pain in his knees caused from years of abuse caused him to hold his breath in a brief, but passing moment of agony. It was at that moment bent over that he felt his right foot getting cold and wet. The rain from the night before seeped in with the realization that his boots, now, were about as useful as the sidebar on his truck.

He straightened his back and examined a hole in his Levi's that seemed to be growing in diameter with every wear. Head hunched forward in the universal sign of "I'm not happy right now." he approached the entrance. He thought about a coffee, but didn't know if he had enough cash for that as well as cigarettes. He could have, he just didn't want to face the embarrassment of not having enough.

He thought of how the night before his 7 year old daughter offerred her piggy-bank she'd been collecting change in since she was 5, a year before her parents divorced. He thought of how pathetic it was that a 7 year old could sense his desperation. He thought of how much could be in there, and then he regretted thinking it.

While in line holding a five dollar bill he thought about the coffee he could be sipping if he gave into the last resort of "piggy-bank" desperation. He got over this thought with a quick shake of the head and a small hum to himself in a tune he created on the spot.

It was his turn in line and he approached the attendant, a 50-55 year old white woman wearing thick-framed glasses which must've been thrown through a time machine 30 years into the future. She looked as excited as he felt that morning with one hand on the counter and another hovering below the overhead cigarette case. This told him he was familiar enough to her to remember his habits, but not his preference. He told her the cigarettes he'd like to purchase without eye contact. She rang them up and they came to $3.75.

With quick math, he saw he had $1.25 left. With quick sensibility he knew there was nothing this day could offer that cost less than a dollar. And with a moment to spare before causing the female time-traveling gas attendant to ask if he needed anything else, he told her to pull off a $1.00 scratch-off ticket.

He had never really gambled. His motto was always "you need money to do that" and now with a quarter left of what used to be five dollars he couldn't have been more right. He justified his purchase on the way out by saying that it's a risky move, but it can be considered an investment into chance.

He got into his car, avoiding the support with a tiny hop, took a cigarette from the pack, and put the box on the passenger seat. He took the quarter change he was given and held it in his right hand. His cigarette, unlit, dangled from his lips, bouncing up and down as he quietly mouthed the directions on the lottery ticket in his left hand.

He had to reveal a secret number which for him was 10. Now he'd have 5 chances to see his number appear in three spots marked "pots-o-gold". He scratched the first one to see a 10. He was a bit pleased, but instead of the prize for that one he scratched the next pot-o-gold. It was a 10. So was the next one. And the next one. Then the next one. And so was the last one. Five 10's meaning he won 5 times. This brightened his day. Maybe he could get some lunch or buy his daughter a toy. He scratched off the first prize. Stopped. Scratched the second. Stopped. The cigarette came loose from his lips and soaked up the muddy water brought into the vehicle from his boots. He paid no attention and furiously scratched the rest of the card.

He saw zeros. Lots of 0's.

He sat in his car quiet for a while. The morning rush was now beginning and his parking space made others envious. If they only knew they had a lot more to be jealous about.

He made a phone call and spoke through a smile. He leaped out of his car and hunched forward bending his knees, but shooting right back up in a quickened gait towards the gas station entrance. As he opened the door he thought about what he'd have for lunch that day.