A whole stack of chips collapses onto the green felt; a lone one falls just shy of Jesse’s hands, cocooned over his cards. Jesse looks up from under his cap and quickly thanks the older man for his bet.

Jesse vaults his arms into the air, twisting his torso and wringing out the last of his nerves: no need to be anxious here. The greying man sitting across from him is a fish, his bravado like a bandage.

I deal the next few hands, until the old man pulls a deep breath into his fat mouth, and pushes the rest of his chips in. He’s not playing cards anymore. He’s playing against his abusive father, his unfair boss, the woman who wouldn’t date him in College and the kid who took his lunch money what would have been 60 years ago.

“All in,” says Jesse.