Home - Day 3

Up the stairs and through the thick glass door there's a place where many people linger around on a regular basis, feeding slot machines, hoping for the big hit. My brother and I enter. The air is hard to breathe, it's polluted by heavy cigarette smoke; the mixed sounds of the coin-sucking automats are annoying. "Frohe Weihnachten", says the old woman behind the counter, her voice just as smokey as the room. "Sorry, boys. Table three is occupied right now". 

Christmas this year flew by without a sound. I hear people say the words, I see shops decorating their display windows, but frankly I had a hard time feeling christmasy at all. Perhaps it's a lack of comprehension, I don't know. Usually I even enjoy preparing presents for my loved ones, but this year it felt a bit half-hearted. I used to appreciate Christmas way more when I was younger. I wonder if that's what happens with time.

Table three is always our table. Its cloth is roughed up in several spots and one of the middle pockets is leaking, but it's tucked in the back of the room, slightly around the corner and therefore quieter than the others. But no such luck today. Today we play at table one, the closest to the bar, visible to everyone. We play like always: whoever wins seven games wins. We play two sets though, because I lose the first one, seven to five. Then I lose the second one, too. Again, seven to five. And that's how we spend the last hours of this year's Christmas.