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The servers were long gone and the way was clear, but Solomon felt rooted to the spot. He needed to clear his mind, to grasp at those elusive thoughts at the fringes. He had no desire to stop, but perhaps this dealer could point him in the right direction. This dealer seemed to be aware of Solomon's plight. He looked at the dealer, he looked at the seat, he looked back at the dealer, said, "I need to get--"

"--get a coffee, I know." The dealer made eye contact with a server and waved her over. "Right away, Mr. Garcia. Please, have a seat."

Solomon watched the server change direction and begin approaching the table. He turned and took the empty seat, swinging his legs under the table to face the dealer, who dealt him two cards face up.

"I haven't put up any--"

The dealer raised his hand with a short frown and quick shake of his head.

"For you, Mr. Garcia, unnecessary. You can see your chips are waiting if you want to bet on any of the rounds."

Solomon looked down to find six even piles of chips stacked in front of him. He was unsure of their value; he'd never gambled before. Had he? But the dealer knew him by name, he wasn't required to pony up to play ...

The server arrived with mug of fresh, hot coffee. The aroma filled Solomon's nostrils, overpowering all other smells in the crowded casino. He went to reach for his wallet but the server smiled, winked, and said, "It's on the House, Mr. Garcia," before walking away.

... and the coffee was free. He didn't recall any of this, and he wondered if his placement here in the casino was what the thoughts at the fringes of his mind were attempting to fill in; somehow he had forgotten, or perhaps he had spent a night a little too wild, and he was going through the motions to come back to himself.

But here was the coffee, and it was for this Solomon had left the suite. He lifted the mug and inhaled deeply before taking a sip. The bitter taste of the black coffee was overlaid to perfection with hints of hazelnut and chocolate. He savored the flavor and then set the mug down. The caffeine would take some time to kick in, and he hoped he would remember where he was supposed to be when it did. In the meantime, there was naught much to do but wait.

Solomon looked at his cards. One card depicted the underside of a cephalopod of unknown variety with innumerable tentacles extending from its body in a spiral pattern. The other card was blank, though its surface was luminescent. He considered the pair for a moment, looked at the dealer, then said, "I'll split."

"Smart move, Mr. Garcia."

Solomon collected from his stacks and deposited with the dealer the requisite number of chips. The dealer then dealt another round according to each player's call. Solomon ignored the cards as they were laid across the table in front of their respective players, choosing instead to imbibe more of the delicious beverage at his side. The taste of the coffee settled well with the chaos on the casino floor, and he found he was not displeased in the environment. If not for the nagging sensation he was missing something, he might even feel wistful in leaving. Perhaps he did belong here. This all seemed so ... easy.

Two new cards were placed in front of him, one over each card already in hand. Over the cephalopod was place a card with a purple dragon in profile, though only its bust was in view. Over the luminescent card was placed one depicting a forest thick with toadstools of many colors. A neon forest came to mind as Solomon looked over the card, though he could not make the connection. He'd never been to a neon forest, at least not one he remembered. When he was younger perhaps? This caused to thoughts at the fringes of his mind to rattle with more gusto, and he felt he was just on the edge of grasping one.

"What's your call, Mr. Garcia?"

Solomon snapped his attention to the cards. The cephalopod and the dragon in one hand, the luminescent and the toadstool forest in the other. The two hands were shaping out in proper themes, and he might win big yet if he could make sense of the pattern on the next round.

"I'll double down."

"On both?"

"On both."

"Very well. Smart play, again, Mr. Garcia."

The rattling of his thoughts at the edges of his mind began to draw out his ire. He was missing something important, and sitting here meant he was missing it completely. Yet he had sat down at the behest of the dealer under the premise of drinking his coffee with something to do and someone to speak with.

"What makes this a smart move?"

Continued after the break

"You jest, Mr. Garcia." The dealer addressed Solomon, though he was dealing another round, dropping cards in front of those players who called for them.

"No jest. Pretend I know nothing. I have to damn near perfect stories, but I don't know they're damn near perfect. Why would it be a smart move to double down at a time like this?"

"I suppose anyone can have a bit of luck," said the dealer. "The cards sometimes have a mind of their own, but they're usually reliable. Very rarely does a card act in a way counter to its character."

"Rarely, meaning it does happen."

"Of course! That's what makes this fun, does it not?" The dealer finished placing cards before the person seated next to Solomon. "If every card acted as expected, this game would be deterministic. Only those with a mind for it would want to play." He turned to face Solomon directly. "And here you have the perfect opportunity. Either you are dealt a pair that resolves your stories; you are dealt a pair that does not resolve your stories but both cards are unreliable, thus giving you the advantage; or any combination in between. It's a rare order. You doubling down antes up the suspense, does it not?"

"It does, but--"

"But that's what we're all here for. The suspense! Sure, many here have lost the plot," and he turned to look at the fellow next to Solomon who was either not paying attention or doing his damn best to ignore the conversation while scowling at the cards, "but not everyone. Certainly not you, Mr. Garcia. Not yet."

The dealer winked as he placed a card over each pair in front of Solomon. The two looked at cards and watched in wonder. The first card, which landed in line with the cephalopod and the dragon depicted a full moon. The dragon huffed and spun, disappearing in a splash of color to return as a purple werewolf. The second card, which landed in line with the luminescence and toadstool forest depicted a fairly in brilliant tones of pink, purple, and blue. The fairy scowled and turned her back, and the three cards all turned black.

"Incredible," said the dealer.

Solomon was taken aback. He looked up at the dealer who met Solomon's gaze. "What does that mean?"

The dealer returned the deck to his side of the table. He snapped his fingers, pointed at the stack of chips in front of Solomon, and gestured to hand them over. Solomon looked at his bet, lifted a matching amount from the stack, and handed them over. The dealer set these aside in his personal stash, then returned the betting chips to Solomon. The hands were a wash.

"It means nothing is deterministic," said the dealer. "You play the part you're expected to, or you don't, and it affects the story."

"What story?"

The dealer began settling the betting and collecting the cards.

"You know the answer to that, Mr. Garcia. There never is just one story, is there? There's a beginning, and a myriad of endings. And the myriad of endings disappear one by one as you move through the story." The dealer picked up the top card on the line of black ones and it returned to depicting the colorful fairy. The other two cards returned to their normal depictions as well. "But until the ending is told, the ending can change, just because one card decides to be unreliable."

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