“10. 11. 31. 41. 44. 14. 24.” The numbers hung on the above-the-bar screen for several seconds, long enough for Amy to dig her lottery ticket from deep inside her bra, a bit withered by sweat.
She smoothed the paper ticket and looked at the string of numbers, lined like kids at recess, waiting to be picked for the team. She glanced back up at the TV, then back at her ticket. C...