Here, Now -- Bingo night
Sunday night, in the pale wash of fluorescent lights, tangled in the scent of nacho cheese, luck and fortune hold out their shiny promises. It's bingo night, where old and young alike sit quietly along the long rows of tables, watching the bingo ball flick onto the television screen, daubing slick circles of ink onto their cards.
They give many reasons for coming. For some, it's the company, the weekly ritual. Others simply say it's the money.
It's also a ritual of hope -- with daubers in canvas bags and cards lined out like a fortune teller's deck. Anyone might be the one to shout out "bingo," be the winner, claim the prize. Everyone has potential.
The numbers are called out like an incantation: B-12, I-24. Along the rows, heads bow, ink drying in bright patterns. Everybody wants to win. The balls dance and leap, one jumping up and into the waiting fingers of the caller.
This could be the one.
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Written by Sara Gettys
