Old Man Free 290 Words

“Sitting in your cell, while the block is locked down, you have nothing but time. Time to think about the hand you were dealt, and if one card played differently might have made a difference. If you are being truthful to yourself, you know it most likely would not have, but you have to wonder.” the old man said.

I just sat there, listening, I did not know what to say.

He continued after a brief pause for dramatic effect, or maybe just to take another pull of his stump of cigar. “You will tell yourself all sorts of lies, to try to justify yourself, but when the silence creeps in, and there is no longer any distractions, you will have to face the truth within, or perish in the deception that before you plays.”

Another swig of the bottle I had given him, and his cheeks glowed with the warmth of the alcohol.

“As with most of us, we bluffed, thinking the next card, that one, that one would give us the edge. Not happy with the fickle hand of fate, we kid ourselves and pretend that if we can just bluff one more hand. Well it doesn’t work out, kid” he said, looking tired now.

“I don’t get it, you are out here, not in there you have your freedom, how did you lose if you got free.” I finally asked.

Ah, kid, don’t you get it, we are not free out here, freedom is just another way of saying you got nothing left to lose.” he said, and put out the cigar, drank down another swallow of whiskey, and closed his eyes. I don’t know if he ever opened them again, he just seemed to drift away.