I stayed in a poker game

And they beat me. I let myself stay in too late, and listened to what they suggested, and let the minutes slip by way past what I had originally intended, and watched my money slip away, dollar by dollar, watched as my winnings dropped stack by stack, chips receding into themselves, and watched their smiles grow and grow as I threw in chip after frustrated chip. My edge had gone, my smile had gone, I was grinding my teeth, trying not to show my impatience. I said to them, "this is has been precipitous." And they laughed, wanting to know, what the hell did precipitous mean? And I realized I had truly fallen. I left late, waited for a train, rode home having lost how much I don't know, I had only lost 40 dollars, but the amount I was up before I went down, how many stacks...the other guy walked with 110 dollars. I had at least that much...but they called the time to leave, and I obeyed, out of what? Courtesy, chivalry, idiocy, not being tough enough, not being the chip leader and chopping their fucking heads off. I felt it when I was up...the respect, the fear, the ability to lead off on anything and throw their frustration back in their face.

In the end, it was a game. But I learned that when you have the heel to someone's face, don't pull back. Press down, and punch their nose in, and be prepared to kill, I guess. Because when you go that far, and you don't finish them off completely, they'll swear revenge on you. And they will fulfill it. Sooner or later.