The cards were old and worn. Countless hours of play had turned what was once white as freshly fallen snow into a dull gray scattered with flecks of dirt. The rich, vibrant ink had faded to a faint and uneven memory. The sharp edges had softened over the years.

I picked up the deck and breathed in the musty aroma that still carried the echoes of gathering with my friends, huddled together over cards. I split the deck in two and let each card cascade downward and interweave. First from this half, next from that half… I arched the cards and smiled as they flowed together more smoothly than water, forming a perfect stack.

With each flick of my wrist, cards flew from my hand. Each one drifted down as gently as a feather onto its messy pile. Everyone eagerly gathered their cards. We couldn’t wait for the game to start.

The first cards hit the ground and we were off. The whole group brimmed with energy. Jokes and teasing remarks flowed through the air. The atmosphere was filled with cheerful laughter. And a warmth spread around that was more comforting than any fire.