Flush with Failure

[meabs]

The gambling halls consumed me. I, Alex, lost everything at the poker tables.
Each evening, the poker tables whispered promises. The whir of slot machines was my addiction's voice.
My wife, Sarah, begged me to stop gambling, but I was too far gone.
On that calamitous night at the exclusive casino, I wagered all we had: our life's work, our house - on a "sure thing" bet.
The slot machine displayed "LOSE" and chance betrayed me.
Returning to what was once our home with nothing left, I found only a note: "Farewell. Your gambling addiction has torn us apart."
Abandoned in an empty apartment, I finally saw that grasping at the jackpot cost me everything that mattered.
Doctors diagnosed severe depression, deepened by my losses at the tables.
Now, constantly is a war not just with the memory of the poker table, but with the deep darkness inside me. Do I have the strength to escape this void carved by endless nights at the tables?
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