Playing For Change
written by: Armin Cornsilk
She sits in her usual spot. Her hands take a position. The right drifts back and forth. The left sits in place, her fingers gently apply pressure every few seconds.
Across the room, he sits with dilated pupils, entranced by the hypnotising and abstract pattern of the carpet floor. The room periodically pulses with neon lights. He has a loose grip and a steady rhythm.
Here they will remain for as long as they can. Relishing not in each other’s company, but in the mutual feeling of fruitless perseverance.
Together they dance alone. Though bitter, they perform this routine, exactly as they have done for years. The sweet, sirenic symphony of fresh notes and cascading coins serenaded them long ago.
There is a child, that drifts back and forth. Yawning and cooing as it goes. An innocent burden, another variable. There are no victories in its house.
Their green eyes stare at the warped visage of some long-dead pharaoh, as with each cursed touch, he adds more and more of their dignity to his fortune.
And I, the silent observer, the faux-experienced clerk. Sitting on my high stool, in the corner booth. The black and white camera feed strips away all the noise and exposes the true nature of this game. What kind of creature would create such a device? At least a mouse trap has real cheese.
I am the newest machine in the collection. An unfeeling, unthinking servant of greed.
All who enter these doors sacrifice something. Only I am guaranteed to get paid for mine.
- Playing For Change - June 30, 2025
