Brandon Adams

“If the players at your table were not actually playing with you, do you believe that anyone from the table across the room would recognize you?" she asked him.

"Of course," he replied, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Anything is possible, after all."

"But I don't even know who you are, how do you expect anyone else to know you" she said, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"You don't know me after all this time?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "We've been playing together for years!"

"I swear I don't," she said, shaking her head. "You were always just sitting at the table, and I thought it was funny."

"Funny?" he asked, his confusion deepening. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "What are they doing at the other table?"

"Playing the same game as us," he answered.

"Ok, what are we playing?" she asked.

"You know what we are playing," he said, his voice hardening. "And you know I won, so don't play the fool."

"I'm not playing the fool," she said, her eyes flashing. "I'm a fool.”
― Brandon Adams, Broke: A Poker Novel