Book

“You should ask her for a book.”

Aesop looks up from the cards, puzzled. “Why would I ask London for a book?”

Vulpis fidgets at the edges of the cards, frayed and weathered from all of the worrying and fretting. Aesop doesn’t like that he messes with the cards.

“I think it would be a nice change. We could read sometimes instead of playing cards. You could teach me to read… I would really like that,” he says quietly, placing out an ace of hearts. Technically, that could mean he either won the hand or lost it. Aces can go either way.

 “High or low?”

“Low.”

“That means you lose.”

“I know.”

Aesop frowns down at the cards, then scoops them up and starts fitting them into his pile. He has almost all of the deck now, and that usually means that he’s almost the winner. 

“I don’t really like to read. And I’d be no good at teaching you, anyway. I haven’t read in forever. Probably can’t even remember.”

“You taught me cards just fine. And I can count because of that, right? So maybe we can make a game out of reading. Then, you can teach me to read and it’ll still be fun for you.”

Vulpis plays another card. A two. A two of clubs.

“You’re playing bad on purpose.”

“Am I?”

“Vulpis, I don’t want a book! I want to play cards, but only if you actually try hard instead of losing on purpose just to butter me up!”

The lights flicker. Bright, brighter, it hurts their eyes. Vulpis’ hands tremble a bit, and he takes his card back. He plays an eight. An eight of spades.

Author's Note

My motivation for writing is to build on stories that I've been making up for years, while also improving my style and ability. Reviews are welcome and appreciated greatly, as long as they are constructive. Please be mindful of how you word your replies, and please remember that anyone can se=e your reviews. I would really prefer for this to remain a space of encouragement and creativity. Thank you!