Fiction | September 01, 2001

The week before I got out of Gamblers’ Rehab Ranch, my wife, Katie, left me, closed our bank account and took a waitress job in Bullhead City; the day after I got home from the ranch, my father moved in with me.  I don’t know if this is a coincidence, but it was also right about that time that I started hearing voices from the poker room.

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