The gambling halls consumed me. I’m a man named Alex who lost everything at the poker tables.
Every night, the slot machines sang their siren song. The shuffling of cards was the soundtrack of my downfall.
My wife, Anna, beseeched me to leave the poker tables, but I was too far gone.
On that calamitous night at the VIP room, I bet our whole life: our security, our home – all on a single hand.
The roulette ball landed on the wrong number and chance betrayed me.
Returning to what was once our home with the bitter taste of defeat, I found only a note: “I can’t do this anymore. Your gambling addiction has become unbearable.”
Sitting in an desolate apartment, I comprehended that grasping at a lucky streak robbed me of love and family.
I was diagnosed with clinical depression, deepened by my losses at the tables.
Now, constantly is a fight not just with the phantom sounds of slot machines, but with the overwhelming gloom that haunts me. Is there any way I can escape this chasm carved by endless nights at the tables?
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