The drawstring pouch hangs off his hip like a holster,filled with glittering gold, shining silver and iridescent, opalescent cats-eyes.
He reaches within, selecting carefully amongst his hard-earned treasures, the clicks and clatters music to his ears as he selects his most precious marble by the eyes in his fingertips.
Chilled from its time in his desk drawer, his prize possession grows warm between his palms ashe rolls it back and forth.
He readies the hazy bronze-colored glass, shot through with sparks of amethyst and jade.
Aims, fires,
and smiles at the noise of his efforts, the clacks from the circle that provide the soundtrack of his bliss,the joy of success when playing for keepsies.
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