Coins clink and that quickly
her mindless heart bats between
bright colors and moving lights—
pinging with bonus points
for kindness and understanding;
slingshots for extra lives
each time she feels something
and means it.
He’s not used to having a
playfield quite like this.
She makes this exciting;
a fifty-cent thrill that
he can afford to entertain
as long as he cares to.
/Insert./Launch./Flip./
Under glass, she’s untouchable—
unstoppable—
a stainless force that earns him
the high score he’s always
dreamed of having.
His string of numbers
lit in the back of.
He’s done it; he’s done.
She watches his hands drop
from the sides.
Music stops.
Bulbs dim.
Glass goes dark.
She falls again—
this time
with nothing to
catch her.
She waits; she hates
begging for the sound
of that coin to drop
one more time.
© Bitsy Sanders, September 2025
