I was eight years old the first time somebody tried to kill me.
When you are that age and try to plan your summer ahead, being murdered it’s the least thing you imagine could happen to you. Yet for me, it was a possibility lurking at my horizon.
Five poker cards are lying facedown on a wood table. I take them and slowly peek at them. The first one is a jack of hearts, the second one is a joker, and the third one is… a joker also. With a strange feeling moving up my spine I unveil the two remaining cards: two more jokers. I put them back and turn to the other players. (more…)