At last, Juliette managed to bring him out of the room. Yet, she did it physically. In his psyche, William hardly noticed. He was in a shroud of fog, cruelly trapped in memory. It's the raging current of regret, of guilt. It was much easier to be distant, retreating into a mind where one could only be numb.

He could hear the shuffle of playing cards, the clink of glass, the metronomic laughter in rhythm. But all felt like an extensive, muffled sound, as if he heard it underwater, or miles away. Not at this moment. Not with them. Not here. Physically, he had joined in, he could see that evening developing around him, but he felt it was for someone else.

For in truth, his death had come.

Beside him on the floor, Giselle sat cross-legged, her blue eyes glittering with mischief as she busily arranged the cards with the effortless command of someone who had played this game at least a hundred times.

"I'm not mocking, Jules," she exclaimed, sending the teasing glance across at her best pal, "I'm merely stating the fact. Rich could never win a poker game even if his life depended on it."

Grinning cockily at her, Richard replied, "yet I have won more trivia rounds tonight than you. Funny how that works."

"Different games, Rich. Trivia: brains; poker: guts." came Giselle’s retort.

It was lively talk, but William hardly heard it. Deep in his mind, he had remembered something about a story he had heard. Maybe a warning, or superstition. There was a weird belief that, before someone died, their recollections began replaying themselves. Little fractioned memories murmured again and again in their minds until they were overtaken by it.

Could this be it? Was he experiencing that now? Was he trapped in that endless loop of memories, reliving the same until he could no longer distinguish between what was real and what was discarded?

He felt a panic for a second, cold running down his spine. Really? Was he stuck in a loop repeating relived prior life until it came to its end? Had he already died? Would he be left with no other amusement but that of the eternally replaying hollow echoes of this moment back to him?

No, it can't be. His fingers came tight around the cards, and the urge to concentrate, to break through the mist loads on him. And right then, without a warning, his thumb grazed the sharp edge of a card. He flinched, for paper cut into skin, a brief but unmistakable pain.

I am alive.

That was real; the sudden sharp prick in his thumb broke his wandering thoughts and jolted him back into the present. Blinked, staring at his thumb, as a bead of blood began to appear with a tiny wound as a result. It smashed into him, like a wave. He could feel it, the pain. His breath hitched briefly, as his body acted instinctively to the little injury. That was enough to burst the mist in his mind. I am alive.

Everything was real—the room, the laughter, the playing cards in his hand. He wasn't dead, yet.

Juliette’s voice came next, drawing him out of his thick web of thoughts. Soft, instinctive, and filled with concerns, she asked, "Will? Are you okay?"

The question brought him back to reality and made him blink.

"Wait, I will take the bandaid."

William shook his head quickly. "it's fine. Really." His voice came out a bit more strained than he meant. "Just a cut. Nothing serious."

But Juliette had stood up and took the bandaid from the first-aid box. However, Giselle made a dramatic eye roll, beaming widely in a smile. "Oh come on, Jules, really?" she said, faux exasperated. "It's just a paper cut; it's not like it's needed."

William glanced at Giselle, then back at Juliette, "Yes. It's fine. It's just a small thing."

"See? He's okay! It's not like his hand's about to fall off or anything."

But Juliette was already peeling the band-aid's backing. "Well, you better appreciate it," she murmured, raising her eyes to William's as she took his hand into hers. "It's already here, anyway."

Giselle sighed, she was the least concerned among them. Or at least, she seemed so. "Oh, come on! The guy could survive a zombie apocalypse, and you're putting him a band-aid on like he's a toddler with a scraped knee."

Richard, who had been watching over the exchange quietly, leaned forward. He seemed to have a genuine concern. "Yeah, but it still bleeds," he said. "I mean, just let Jules do it, Will."

"Oh, Rich, you worry too much. The dude's a big boy." Thereafter, she turned back to Juliette, grinning. "You're spoiling him, Jules."

As usual, Juliette was unaffected by Giselle's teasing. She finished placing the band-aid over the tiny cut.

"Thanks, Jules," his voice almost sounded like a whisper. And it was not for the bandaid. It was the warmth she had offered without needing anything in return. "I... appreciate it."

"You are welcome," she replied.

Giselle, who had just witnessed the scene, sighed and her eyes heavily rolling with melodrama, crossed her arms. "Ah, isn't it sweet," teased the no-nonsense person. "If there's one touching moment all evening, this is it."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Richard shot Giselle a disapproving stare, "You should not comment if you're not doing anything."

"What? It is a paper cut, not a life-threatening injury," she replied, her tone was as displeased as Richard's was. "A wound like that, just lick it, or maybe spit on it, that will do."

Richard looked at Giselle with disbelief. "Spit on it?" he echoed incredulously. "Are you serious? That's - that's disgusting!"

Giselle shrugged as though her suggestion really would be completely valid. "Why not? It's a natural remedy. That's what people used to do before they invented bandaids. Just a little spit and problem solved."

Richard was horrified and glared at Giselle. "Gigi, no. You can't be serious. You do not spit on someone's cut. There's bacteria!"

Giselle found this amusing, showing no shame in her outrageous suggestion. "It has healing properties! Check it out on the internet!"

"Well, I think we can save the scientific conversation another time," Juliette cut in. Trying to stop the meaningless debate from going on.

Giselle rolled her eyes at Juliette's practicality. "Gee. You kill all my fun, Jules."

The friendly banter had reduced William's feeling of being lost in his thoughts. He could almost convince himself that, at least for a moment, everything was just as it was. Perhaps it wouldn't been full, but slowly he felt like here he belonged.

"I agree with Jules. That should do it for all those healing remedies," William chipped in. "Now, back to it. I don't think we have finished our games."

"Finally," Giselle said. "Alright, let's do this."

And the game started again. Giselle and Richard were still having a playful school-age rivalry. However, as Giselle mentioned, poker wasn't Richard's best game. Richard was trying to keep his cool but it was obvious he was a little out of his element. "You know you can't just raise every round, Giselle," he grumbled.

Giselle merely shrugged and spread her smile. "I don't see why not. It's working for me, isn't it?"

Juliette sat calmly. Gazing rhythmically at the table and her cards. She often did not speak much, but there was that slight smile on her lips, indicating she was content. It was something William admired—she was more mature than her age.

"I fold," Juliette said. There is no drama in how she did it. There was not a moment of hesitation. It was just an appraisal, a conclusion drawn by her quiet confidence.

"Aww Jules, you're no fun. You're not even going to fight for it?"

"Nah, bad luck this time," Juliette replied as she was then turning her head to Richard. "Now it's Rich's turn."

Richard looked at his cards for what felt like the hundredth time. "Alright," he muttered finally before sliding a few chips forward. "I'll raise."

Giselle let out a short laugh, brightening up her wide grin. "Nah, that's a bluff."

"I'm not bluffing!" he said hotly, the color rising in his cheeks. "Maybe I've just been holding back, waiting for the right moment."

Giselle called Richard's raise with a flourish, playing with her chips. "Sure, Big brother, let's see if you have the guts to stick around. I'll raise if you raise. Think again, I will let you change your decision."

Richard paused, and glanced down at the dwindled pile of his chips before looking back at the cards, "I..." he sighed. "Well, fine. I fold." Threw the cards down in defeat while glaring at Giselle. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Just because I'm better than you," she answered smugly.

Now there was just William and Giselle left in the hand. She turned a smile, practically daring him to challenge her.

"Your turn, Will," Juliette reminded him.

William leaned across and shoved all of his chips into the pot. "All in."

For a moment, the room was silent. Giselle seemed to be surprised. "What?" she said, staring at the mound of chips in the center. "Nah, you're joking."

"Nope," was William's simple reply, his tone difficult to read.

"Will," Richard said, "Gigi's been on a win streak tonight. You gotta take her down."

"Ain't no way it will happen. He's just trying to scare me off," Giselle squinted. "You think you can bluff me, big bro?"

William tilted his head slightly, he had a smile on him. "Guess you'll have to find out."

Giselle hesitated, then pushed in her chips as well. "Fine, all in, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Juliette was then acting as the middle, "Let's see then."

With a confident grin, thinking for sure she would win, Giselle turned her cards. "Full house!" she declared proudly, showing three queens and two nines, "Try beating that, mister 'all in.'"

Richard sighed in disappointment, he had thought he would have his revenge on Giselle through William, but... "Well, she's got you there, Will. Tough luck."

But William said nothing. Instead, he proceeded to lay down his cards one by one: four, five, six, seven, and eight of hearts. A straight flush. A silence swept the room as all eyes were glued to the cards.

"No," Giselle said in a voice that was even and completely flat as of disbelief. "No way. There's no way you just-"

"Looks like I did," William said with a shrug, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Richard burst out laughing, slapping William on the shoulder. "Oh, I like that! Gigi, you got wrecked!"

"This is the worst!"

The evening continued with a few extra rounds of table games. Yet, as the hours stretched, so also did the energy of the group begin to wear thin. The conversation grew quiet, and laughter began to fade. Giselle stifled a yawn, stretching her arms above her head, and let her cards droop lazily onto the coffee table.

"I'm out," she declared. "There is just no way I could deal with you geniuses tonight."

Richard raised his eyebrows, his grin widening as he looked at Giselle who began to stand up. "Surrendering, huh? This is a first."

"Surely not," Giselle shot back with mock indignation. "I just know when to quit. Unlike some people." She pulled Juliette up to her feet with a thick tug on the arm. "Come, Jules. Let's rest up before I die of tiredness."

Juliette cast her cards one last, measured look. She neatly stacked them up and put them on the table. "Sounds good, let's. Goodnight, gentlemen."

"Sure, sleep well," came the reply from William, steady, but low in volume. Softly, he watched as two figures, she and Giselle, walked down the hall into the distance.

"Wait!" Richard called, but they didn't stop. Silence came into the room as the two retreated into the bedroom. "Of course, they leave us with the mess," he muttered. "Typical."

William chuckled softly and stretched his arms while standing up. "Tomorrow is probably a good day for cleaning; it's not going anywhere."

"All right, but it is us who will clean it, isn't it?" Richard huffed, making no effort to tidy up. Instead, he trailed behind William to the bedroom.

The two drifted to their shared room, the creak of a lock hushing behind them.