“Pick a card… any card,” he whispered with a slight smile as he pulled the covers over my shoulders. He slowly slid the tip of his index finger along the rounded edges of the gold cards, holding them tightly together between his thumb and palm. Hidden under my rumpled blankets, I looked into his hazel brown eyes with skepticism. I gradually took my hand out from under the pillow and waved it in circles over the papers he was so openly presenting to me. After a few seconds of indecision, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and gently pulled a card from the deck. I quickly hid the card against my chest with a small gasp of excitement. I remember my room being dimly lit by an elegant lamp propped in the corner, outlining my father's handsome face in the dead of night. It was past bedtime and I followed very strictly when my mother was still with us; yet, once she left my father for another man, my father and I spent countless hours weaving together stories and imaginary worlds. Time didn't exist, because then, and the tireless chirping of crickets, were all that mattered. I could hear the quiet hum of electricity coursing through the wooden walls of our home like the blood coursing through my veins. I slowly peeked at the corner of the paper, making sure I didn't glimpse anything. The black outline of the letter Q lay peacefully in the corner of my paper. It was the black queen of spades slightly bowed, surrounded by a dark black stripe faded by time. Looking closer, I was captivated by her beauty taking shape through the intricate details of her wavy silver dress. He delicately held a golden rose in his humble right hand, and a symmetrical gold star... in the center of the card...", he said as he went back to filing all the papers. "Actually", I interrupted him: “You could give him these papers for me, please?” I reached out in her direction, extending the soaked papers in my hand onto her desk. She turned with a slight smile on her face and gently stood up from my chair and carried them her girls. I let out a brief sigh of relief as my hand fell to my side. Without even finishing its original task of filing the documents, she turned the corner and walked into the maze of lines that colored the opaque floor with signs. Once she was out of sight, I quickly reached into my right pocket. Remembering the first time my father performed his magic trick for me, I pulled out the Two of Hearts with great care as I thought to myself: We are Two of Hearts..