A vow of hate
She countered with a perfectly placed red queen, opening a new discard sequence.
The game reached its climax. With one card away from victory, I hesitated. A single queen remained in my hand, the key to clearing my tableau. I glanced at Sandra, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her discard pile lay bare, victory was seemingly within my grasp. But something in the way her frail hand gripped the cards, the way her breath hitched with each discarded card, made me pause. With a sigh, I discarded a random card, breaking my winning sequence.
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