The Winner Takes It All, The Loser Takes The Fall.

The Winner Takes It All, The Loser Takes The Fall.
I can’t help that I’m a sore loser. I’m not upset about losing. That’s not it. I don’t actually care. But I get this twist in my chest and my neck gets hot and the room gets small and suddenly we need to play again. We need to keep playing until I win because I cannot leave that table until I’ve won at least once. It’s not a matter of pride. It’s not a matter of stubbornness. I can only assume it’s hereditary. I’ve been playing in card game tournaments with my family since I was six. My grandfather made me cry when we were partners and I made a wrong move. I’ve played my cards meaner than I’ve had to and watched as my cousins stomped off to tell their parents. But I can’t help it. There’s nothing sweeter than victory.