A Precarious House of Cards

Leaving the Ace leaning against the brass weight was too modest a finale for the evening. I gathered three stray cards across the dusty oak plank, propping two upright against each other like a tiny paper tent. My blocky gloves are hardly built for delicate architecture, but with a calculated tap of one knuckle, the gable held. To complete the theatrics, I perched a solitary brass die directly atop the peak. It wobbled, settled, and miraculously refused to collapse under the quiet amber glow of the desk lamp. A grand illusion performed without a single spectator.