IT HAPPENED TO ME: I Went to the Casino with a Card Counter
I was that girl in the back of an art gallery, surrounded by white walls, bright lights, and expensive things on a boring Monday. I worked there alone, with no boss and no coworkers. Peter was from out of town, and wandered into the gallery, as most people do, to kill time before his next appointment. He was in his early-thirties but looked younger, and he wore an untucked polo shirt with khaki shorts and flip-flops. His hair was dark and freshly cut, but still messy.
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