by Douglas Barricklow
Mason won the lottery three days after he died. He bought tickets twice a week, five dollars a pop, ten bucks a week, forty dollars a month, four hundred eighty dollars a year for the past five years.
At first, he imagined what he would do if he won it. After a few months he stopped thinking about that.
He never thought he would die. It was impossible to imagine. He tried. When it came, he was asleep dreaming of a room in a strange house. Alone, gray light, a couch. Window mullions sliced the light into squares. Mason flew between the light and the door several times. He felt comfortable in his gray brain.
Then, everything closed down, as if a hand pulled a shade over the window.
She found Mason with his eyes open. She did not scream. When the 911 paramedics came to get him breathing again, it didn’t work.
She went through Mason’s wallet the day of the funeral. His body was going to be cremated, and the ashes strewn at sea. He did not have a boat, but he read many books about voyages to the South Seas, adventures men had on sailboats. They made Mason want to do that.
She found the last lottery tickets Mason bought, and the winning numbers. All during the brief funeral service she thought about the money, colors she would use on the walls in her house, new curtains for the windows. Nothing gray. She was tired of gray.
3 comments:
it makes you wonder about Mason's qualities and the life he led and his relationship with the female at the end of the story.
it tells you so much about so many things.
i liked this one a lot.
I'm sorry that he didn't live to win, but I wonder if he was too gray to be able to have that experience.
Interesting that he lost interest and continued to play. I like her response that she was done with grey. Lots of meaning in a few words given e context of the story.
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