Julie Eberhart Painter
When I'm in a tight spot, I like to know where the door is. Three cards remain in the last hand of the bridge tournament. Am I end played? The wrong lead gives declarer a free finesse. What did she keep? My head aches remembering my exit card.
“I wish you'd forgotten my club discard,” she says with a sigh, placing her hand back in the yellow plastic board.
Scores collected, we stand.
Everything goes black.
I awake unable to move. Where’s my exit card now?
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