I joined Casino World earlier this year after I was unceremoniously laid off over text, mostly as a way to keep myself from drinking my feelings away. And now, all I had to my name was an overdue rent payment, a $75 street-sweeping ticket, and a monthly VIP membership for Casino. But rather than buy food or pay rent, I’d spent that $5,000 on a bunch of gems with no real-world value. I’d started playing poker when the calendar said June and I knew I had enough saved up to survive for the next couple months while I looked for another job. So when an anthropomorphic firework said it was the Fourth of July, I panicked.
I think it was a Sunday night, maybe early Monday morning, but meth makes timelines fuzzy and booze makes everything else a blur.
On the third day of my gambling binge, a grandma dressed as a pharaoh said there would be purple unicorn charms at a graveyard.
