Lottery

I look at the paper in my hand, wondering what it has to say. Examining it, feeling it, I run it through my fingers again and again. What will come from it? Anything? Perhaps nothing. I’ve been bating my breath all this time and I don’t even know if I’ll find what I’m looking for. I stand there, trying to convince myself it’s nothing. I know the loss will feel less heartbreaking this way. I think of you and scratch my coin across the paper’s metallic surface, waiting to know what’s underneath.

It’s “sorry.”

Like love’s some kind of lottery.