“Pocket Jacks.”
“What, again?” Carl threw down his cards in disgust.
Jimmy shrugged. “It’s been hours since I’ve had Jacks.”
“I’d swear you were cheating, if I didn’t know better.”
“Don’t blame me because you keep trying to suck out on the river.”
They’d been playing since they’d scrambled into the shelter days ago, pausing only to sleep and eat. They’d had the radio on for a while, half-listening to the news to drown out the sound of scratching at the door, but the batteries had died.
“Your deal.”
“Are you sure there aren’t any other games?”
“What, like ‘Life’?”
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