Skin, wet with sweat, glistens olive. A tooth flashes gold when he smiles at the woman. He studies the child, leans back in his chair, away from the center and with hands, swollen jointed, he flick cards across the red-checked cloth swish, swish, toward the woman and the child. Wisps of hair, wet-black, from Saturday night's bath, curl into ringlets, and cling to the child's flushed face resting on the table's sharp edge. Fingers count cards, tapping a rhythm through the air.
Lines deepen around eyes, darkened blue with concentration, and teeth bite pale lips.