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Aunt Sophie Sees the Future: Part I

“Praying to the poker god”

by Michael Wiesenberg |  Published: Oct 01, 2010


“_Nu_, tsatskeleh,” said my Aunt Sophie, “how is it that sometimes I just know when I’m going to win the next hand?” The cocktail waitress approached our little table deep within the gloom of a secluded lounge of the Anaheim Club. I nodded at my empty glass that had contained Glenfiddich, neat. Aunt Sophie indicated another Sloe Gin Fizz. “Now that’s an interesting question,” I replied. “Tell me, when that happens, are you right?” “Funny you should ask,” she responded. “Sometimes I have this feeling of wishing I would win the next hand.” “Is that,” I interrupted, “usually in a critical situation? A must-win, desperate situation?” “Dot’s right, Dollink,” she answered. “How did you know?” The waitress brought our drinks. I set a few bills on her tray, and when I did not attempt to retrieve the change, she withdrew silently. “Because,” I laughed, taking a sip of the single ...

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