text: I stared at the lottery ticket all morning, it had gotten ashy from the dust it gathered during the week, untouched. In the bin sat several scrunched up pieces of paper, each of them containing a few different number combinations, none of which I felt confident enough to use. I wondered why I got it in the first place. At first, I thought it’d be a lucky week, my lucky week, which turned into a lucky Friday with every piece of paper that landed in the trash. It was 8 o’clock. I knew that because the alarm had rung exactly 12 times since I woke up. I looked at the lottery ticket once more but gave up halfway. I figured I could just think about it during the day, perhaps a lucky charm would give me some insight into the secret behind the lottery and I’d feel it, right before the draw took place. So, I put it in my jacket’s inner pocket and left for work. The street was livelier than usual, perhaps it was the sun we hadn’t seen in a couple of days, announcing itself as the lucky break I wished for, although I was convinced it was because it was a Friday, everyone loves Fridays. Just in front of me, a mime pretended to be stuck on a box, pretty convincingly too. I wondered how you discover you have such a talent. At the end of the block, a crowd formed around a young girl singing. I couldn’t quite make out what she was singing because of the crowd’s roar but the melody somewhat resembled The Turtles’ classic Happy Together . The first customers started to flood the stores along the streets, half of which had big red leaflets advertising their “50% off” deals. *** The sun shone on the building’s marble façade, almost quintessentially so, drying away the layer of rain that had laid there the previous night. People in suits funnelled into the building. You could always tell apart the staff from the customers by the smile on their faces, for staff had that hopefully-I-can-leave-an-hour-early smile that brought them to work early on a Friday morning, whereas customers showed no emotion, sometimes letting off little tics of annoyance and hastiness. A funny observation, I thou--. “Hey, Jacob!” A cheerful voice interrupted my train of thought. I turned around. “Oh, hey, Charlotte.” She was wearing her burgundy tight-cut dress that morning, I like that dress. “Early too, huh ?” “Can’t help it, it’s a Friday.” I laughed, she giggled back. We walked through the broad hallway, greeting everyone with a slight nod as we moved past them. I thought that might increase my chances, in hopes that if the balance of good and evil was perfectly even, luck would befall me that day. “You going up too?” Charlotte asked. “Yeah, 20th floor.” “I guess we’re saving the elevator a round trip today then.” “Meetings straight away, is it?” “That obvious, huh ?” She laughed. Charlotte squirmed in place, twisting the tip of her hairs around her fingers into curls as the platform rose from the ground floor -- nervousness for her meetings, I assumed. The elevator radio had finally started working again, blasting away with the best elevator music one could ask for, occasionally stopping to run the important announcements of the day--mostly company propaganda reminding us of how lucky we were to spend our days at the office. And just like that, on a beautiful, sunny Friday, everything just works again, all I needed now was those dammed numbers. The doors opened at the apex of some jazz song, likely by Louis Armstrong or Ray Charles, I should probably know the difference, maybe I’ll get around to it, with a piñacolada on my left hand by a beach in the Bahamas once I win that lottery, sipping from one of those swirly straws as the waves crash in tune with the song--. An arm appeared from behind as we left the elevator, forcing me out of my own thoughts. I didn’t even need to turn my head to know who it was. “Hey, Chris,” I said as I struggled to unwrap the deathtrap around my neck. “Jacob, my man!” He yelled, louder than he should’ve. He looked over my shoulder, “Charlotte! Beautiful as ever in that red dress,” he said just as loud. “It’s burgundy,” I pointed out but was blissfully ignored. “Alright Charlie-boo, I’m gonna take this one now,” He locked me under his cologne-full armpit and pulled me away, “come on, man, when are you gonna hit that?” “Hit wha--” “Charlotte, man, if she was anymore over you, she’d be sitting on your lap.” “Shut up.” He spun me around and we faced Charlotte, probably dislocating some of my neck vertebrae. “Just look at her.” He whispered. She was still standing by the elevator, looking around before she spotted us. She probably thought we looked like creeps and I can’t blame her. She looked cute, but I’d already established that so I didn’t really know what he wanted me to be seeing. He stared at my confused face before finally speaking. “Alright, see the way she plays around with her hair? Or the way she smiles at you like you’re some kind of unicorn? Or maybe how she laughs at every dumb thing your say or do? Those are all signs, man.” I smiled back at her and gave one of those I-will-probably-see-you-around-the-office waves. “I think I’d see it if there were any signs,” I told Chris. “Whatever, man, just tryna help you score here.” “How about you help me score something else?” I proposed. His eyes lit up, clearly waiting for something else, “I like where you’re going with this.” I took the lottery ticket out of my jacket pocket, now clearly worn out, with its corners slightly bent, probably a sign I should use it as soon as possible. “What numbers will get me to win this?” “You’re no fun,” he sighed. “Whatever. So?” “So what?” He asked, clearly oblivious of what I’d asked him. “The numbers, which ones?” “I must’ve forgotten to take my fortune cookie costume out, dammit!” He teased. “Whatever, I’ll just win without you.” “You do you, man. Just don’t forget me when you’re rich, eh?” He laughed, “gotta go now, give Charlotte a smooch for me, will ya?” “Yeah, yeah, see you around.” We walked together for a short second before parting ways. Chris had an office, a synonym of when people work for you, which basically meant that he’d probably be able to leave just in time to enjoy his Friday, no doubt teasing me for staying late in the process. I walked exactly 32 steps to get to my cubicle, a relevant detail considering it was 1 less than the usual, probably a result of a lucky day like this one. The desk was just as boring, though, same old Victorian computer, mouse, keyboard, plastic plant, a mountain of papers (no doubt gently laid down by my generous boss) and several sticky notes hanging from the monitor. I let out an exasperated sigh and started flipping through the papers, hoping one of them would contain the secret key to riches. *** The crimson afternoon sun decorated the cubicle in warm tones, its splendour only slightly dimmed by the bright office lights. I glanced resentfully at the flurry of emails on the computer screen, one of those things that can either take a few minutes or a few millennia, wondering how sick I’d need to look if I wanted to get out earlier. A soft knock bounced around the thin walls of the cubicle, startling me. Charlotte’s head popped up on the side. “Sorry,” she said, in a voice even softer, “didn’t mean to.” “That’s fine, I was looking for an excuse not to think about it anyway. You done for the day, are you?” “Yeah, just finished, you?” “Yeah.” “Okay then.” At the far end of the office, Chris flailed his arms around, trying to get my attention. Once he got it, he started kissing his hand, passionately, awkwardly even and then pointed at Charlotte before resuming the make-out session with his hand. Charlotte turned around to leave and the light started flickering above me. Once I looked back, Chris was already gone. I glanced at the computer screen once again, then at the flickering light in the ceiling, it was doing so 2 times, maybe 3, yes, 3 times a second, I wondered if it meant something, maybe some weird kind of morse code. I looked one last time at the email inbox before it became clear that I couldn’t work like that, it was clearly fate for it to flicker like that, or maybe I just didn’t want to. “Tell you what,” I told her just before she left, “wanna grab something to eat? What time is it anyway?” Flustered, she looked at her right hand looking for a watch, before falling back to her left once she realized, “6-6 o’clock.” “Exactly, about time we grab a bite, what do you say?” “Y-yeah, of course.” The sun had set even further when we left the building but the streets were no less lively than when we got in. We barely walked before going into the convenience store on the other side of the street. I walked alongside Charlotte, a double-bacon sandwich on my left hand and barbecue-flavoured chips on my right, as she patrolled the aisles looking for something to eat. “What are your plans for tonight?” She asked, the uncertainty in her voice made it seem as though she’d been thinking about that question for a while. “Shi-sorry-crap, I completely forgot about it!” I took the lottery ticket out once again, it was now folded in half, its corners white. She laughed. “What’s the time?” She exaggerated her motion, making sure I saw she’d taken the right arm this time around, “6:40,” she said. “Dammit. I’ll meet you at the till.” I said before storming off. I could hear her laughing behind me, masked in between the sound of chips bags being crushed. It didn’t take long to get to the till, I’m sure it didn’t, although it certainly felt as though the tore had gotten bigger since we got in. I put the worn ticket on the counter, “Could you give me a pen, please? I’d like to fill this in.” The cashier looked at the clock above the door, it marked 6.42 p.m, then looked at me as if I were a madman. She was a brash-looking woman in her forties, maybe fifties, I couldn’t tell, Margaret was her name according to the name tag on her uniform, clearly too tired to have any sense of urgency. She began scrambling behind the desk for a pen, slowly, very slowly. A few seconds went by, maybe minutes, at that point it felt just the same. A hand approached my field of vision, Charlotte’s hand, holding a blue pen with a daisy on top stuck together by a small spring. “Any ideas?” I asked Charlotte. She raised her shoulders, “I don’t know, just put the first numbers that pop up in your head.” I looked at the clock one last time, there were but a few seconds left. I began scribbling on the ticket, numbers that if anyone asked me, I wouldn’t be able to say where they came from, but they did. I took one last glance at it before handing it to the cashier, it read 8-12-50-20-32-3-6 . Margaret, I hope she wouldn’t mind for me to address her that way, put the ticket onto the machine and began tapping on a computer screen much better than the one in my cubicle. I looked at the clock, unwillingly tapping my finger against the counter, it was past 6:45 p.m, just by a few seconds, the limit to enter the draw, but Margaret didn’t look too phased. “Don’t worry, it’s ahead by a minute.” She said in a single, uninterested, tone. I grabbed Charlotte’s left hand. Her watch showed just past 6:44 p.m. That’s it, if any signs had shown me how and when to deposit the ticket, that was the one that proved to me I’d just entered the draw with the lucky numbers. I could feel the smile widen on my face, I’m sure I looked like an idiot, soon-to-be a rich idiot. The till beeped and a receipt came out, it was official. We walked along with the energetic crowd before turning onto a quieter alley. We sat down to enjoy our food, for me, the last piece of food that wasn’t caviar. “So,” she said before taking her first bite, “any plans?” “I’ll probably spend the night writing my resignation letter and picking a new limousine.” She laughed, “And what is it gonna look like, the limousine?” “Black, obviously, everyone has a black one. Maybe I should get a white one too, I’ll add it to the list.” “Got space for one more in that limousine of yours?” I nodded up and down as I chewed my bacon-filled sandwich. She kept looking at me, inquisitively. I wondered if she was expecting me to add something more, or maybe an entirely different answer. The all-encompassing ringtone of the church bell, albeit muddied by the sound of street chatter, started to announce the time once we got up from the small bench we’d installed ourselves on. As we resumed our walk through the busy streets, the sun now completely gone from the skyline, the theme song of the lottery caught our attention. It came from a small tech store displaying a few TV screens, all of which had the same program on. “So,” Charlotte started, softly, “do you want to celebrate your win somewhere afterwards?” I didn’t answer even though I heard every word for my eyes were glued to the TV screen. The draw lady, whatever her name was, wore a blue dress with white vertical stripes, one I hadn’t seen before. I wondered if someone like her could just get a new dress every time, and whether or not I’d be able to do so as well. Small numbered balls bumped against each other as the lady turned the transparent wheel. A broad smile escaped my poker face as the number 32 ball fell from the wheel, I could already see the black and white limousines parked by my new mansion. But then, one by one, as the balls fell onto the display plate, the smile on my face diminished until it was no more. In the end, the 32 ball was the only one that corresponded to what I’d predicted. “Next time, eh?” Charlotte said, cheerfully. I wondered if I’d misread any of the signs given to me, or if there were no signs at all in the first place. I wondered if the perfect conditions I’d encountered that day would replicate themselves at some point and if I’d be bold enough to try again once they did-- Charlotte got closer, “Oh you...” She said before glueing her lips against mine. It took a few seconds for me to realize what had happened, and a few seconds longer to understand how we’d gotten there-- and even then I wouldn’t be able to say how. My stomach flourished, I hadn’t felt that in a long while. She took a step back. Her face looked brighter than usual, prettier than usual. I glanced behind there, at the TV screens, the result of the draw still lingered on them. I wondered why, even though I’d lost, despite what I thought were obvious signs, I still felt like I’d won. “Tell you what, how about that celebration?” I said.