While the magician shuffled his cards, I told him about my papa. 

My papa was the king of cards (chicken pot pie, too). 

We’d play war, slap-jack, and go-fish for hours.

One night we were both sitting on the carpet, cross-legged, ready to start a new game of war. My papa shuffled the cards, dealt them + then left the room for what he promised would be a quick second.

Scheming like a first grade queen, I took all of the jacks, queens, kings, + aces out of his pile and put them in mine.

When he came back into the room, my heart pounded. Afraid he’d catch me.

And of course he did.

But he didn’t yell or get mad. He just looked at me sternly + asked why I’d done it. I told him I wanted to win. That I was just kidding. I cried.

“You’ll never win when you cheat,” he said.

The magician listened as he finished shuffling + handed me his business card. “Card cheating for entertainment purposes only” it read.

“I don’t cheat for personal gain, I cheat for entertainment,” the magician said. 

I wonder what my papa would say about that.