Happy Hump-Day! I hope you're having a marvellous week so far! I've been settling in to my new job and playing hostess to some Young Americans- exciting stuff! But enough about my life- you're here to find out all about the latest twist in Ben's. It's getting good!
The tension is really getting to poor Ben- will Tim's numbers come up? Or has it all been wishful thinking? Hurry up and meet them in the pub- it's Tim's round (and that rarely happens).
Stamp
That night, Ben bounced
into the pub, buoyant with excitement. He looked around for Tim, and found him
sat at a corner table near the widescreen TV. He looked green and clammy with
nerves. Ben ordered a pint and joined him, sliding round the bench until their
knees were almost touching.
“Alright?” he asked. Tim
grimaced.
“I feel sick, mate. It’s a
rollover- 13.4 million!” He gestured towards the ticket clutched in his hand,
the one with the stamp. It twinkled and winked, Ben imagined. He whooped and
slapped Tim on the back.
“Mate, that’s amazing!
What are you going to spend it on?”
Tim gulped his drink
before answering.
“I haven’t got it yet,
have I?” He didn’t look like a man who was excited about becoming a
millionaire. In fact, he looked like a man about to be executed. His eyes were
rimmed with dark circles, and he chewed on the fingernails of his free hand
nervously. Ben took the ticket from his sweaty grasp and read the numbers.
“Lucky dip? Good choice.
It’s going to happen anyway- why complicate it by choosing the wrong numbers?”
His attempt at mood-lightening humour went down like a lead balloon. “What’s
the time? How long have you got left being poor?” He handed back the ticket.
Tim put it in his breast pocket and patted it to reassure himself it was in
there.
“Ten minutes. What if
we’re wrong, though?” he groaned miserably. “It’s crazy- how could some random
numbers from a stupid tattoo-stamp mean I’m going to win the lottery?” He
patted his pocket again, though. “What if it means something completely
different? Or doesn’t mean anything at all?”
His eyes pleaded silently
for reassurance. Ben was bound by the laws of man-friendship, so could only
offer support by punching Tim in the arm. Tim swayed to the side slightly and
took another drink.
“This is it, mate. I know
it,” said Ben. “This is what you want. This is your significant and life-changing
event, happening right now. You should be enjoying it!” Ben didn’t add that his
own hopes were pinned on tonight’s outcome too. He wasn’t quite ready to admit out
loud that the significant and life-changing event he wished for the most was a near-stranger
named Cassie. This was Tim, after
all.
He called over to the
barman.
“Hey, mate- can you stick
the TV on? My friend wants to check his lottery numbers.” The barman obliged;
it was a quiet night and he quite fancied checking his numbers too. He bought a
ticket every Wednesday, regular as clockwork, and dreamed of a little bar in
Spain.
The two men waited
anxiously as the minutes ticked by. The pub hummed as people chatted and drank.
Tim seemed to be vibrating from nervous energy. Ben’s leg started to bounce as
the time for the draw approached. Neither spoke. Tim patted his pocket. Finally
the screen lit up with the jazzy opening credits of the lottery draw...
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