Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner
She pressed the button again. Ka-ching! Listening carefully to the sound of the machine she was playing. Almost, almost, she knew it by heart. Every nuance, every sound was a familiar melody to her. She was so, so close to a pay-off, she could feel it. There was a sheen of silver sweat on her brow, a quiver in her lip and she felt like she had been running a marathon, because in fact, she had. It had been six long hours since she first sat down at her machine. Not a machine, not any machine, but her machine where all her hopes and dreams lived and died.
