Jack was always a risk-taker. As a kid, he’d climb the highest up trees, walk along walls, dash across busy roads rather than wait. And so it was as he grew up.
He applied for a new job. Why? He was already earning a fortune. Risk management of all things. It worked out well, as usual. An eye-watering salary, a company Merc.
We went to a casino. Jack was sitting before a huge pile of chips. ‘Quit while you’re ahead’ I said. But no, he pushed them forward and the pile grew higher.
‘One for the road’ he said swallowing yet another scotch.
Driving home, he went faster and faster. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the seat. I don’t remember anything else. I was lucky to get away relatively unscathed. Not so Jack.
‘There’s one thing we could try’ said the surgeon ‘but it doesn’t come without risks’.
‘Go ahead’ said Jack, scratching his signature on the consent form.
As I watched the sun go down from the hospital window, the sun set on Jack’s life. It had been a risk too far.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is hosted by Priceless Joy. The picture is by Jodi McKinney. Thank you.