He locked eyes with his opponent, looking for some tell-tale twitch. Nothing. He considered his own cards. They were good, but were they good enough? The pot on the table seemed to mock him.
Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. To risk or not to risk? Nervously, he lay down his cards. Four tens. Holding his breath, he waited, staring at the backs of his opponent’s cards. It all depended now on the flip side of those cards.
His teenage son threw down four jacks, whooped with joy and scooped up the pot – all £1.97p of it!
This post is part of the 100 word challenge for grown ups at Julia’s Place.