There’s a good chance you might be right, he said. This might be your lucky day. You feel like lucky? he asked.

She looked at him. A cold draft blew through the trailer. They both sat on the couch wrapped in blankets. Coffee cups on the table.

What is luck? Something we conjure up? He laughed. Are we born with it? Where’s mine? she asked. Sitting here in a metal shack with you. Not knowing what’s going  to happen from one day to the next. Might not ever wake up. Just fall into a deep sleep known as death. So. I’ll ask again. What is luck?

It’s a gift, he said. A gift from God. He said that no matter how hard it gets, I’ll never put you through nothing you can’t handle. He said that. You can look it up.

What’re we going to do? she asked him. No money. No job. No car. It’s  three degrees outside. We can’t make a move.

Right.

And you’re asking if I feel lucky. No. No, I do not, she told him. We don’t even have a TV that works. Stupid radio. A radio. That’s as high tech as we get, she stood up and towered over him. When was the last time you paid a bill?

I’m protecting you as best as I can.

From what?

The devil.

Sure are doing a great job.

God said the meek shall inherit the earth. He said that. You can look it up.

I’ve inherited nothing, she yelled.

OK. Calm down. This screaming ain’t going to make it any warmer.

The devil. God. These are made-up stories.

You don’t believe?

No. I do not believe.

Got to have faith.

No. I got to have a cup of coffee.

He’s winning.

Who?

Lucifer. You’re letting him win. He stood up and placed his arms around her in a tight squeeze. Are you going to let him win? He held tighter.

I can’t breathe.

Are you going to let him win? He wrestled her to the ground, both hands on her neck. Are you? Are you?

Her body fell limp. He laid her down on the dirty carpeted floor and poured himself a cup of coffee. Nothing but grounds from three days ago.

He wrapped the blanket around him and sat back down on the couch. A cold draft blew through the trailer.