Stella never played.

Why would she when each attempt at calculating the odds

Ended in a bout of mindboggling vertigo?

And yet today, on the anniversary of her husband’s final, cowardly checkout,

She felt a sudden irresistible urge,

Possibly even a calling,

To indulge in the EuroMillion insanity.

Stella slipped into the kiosk to play a single line,

The numbers appearing to her in what she could only describe as a vision.

Years later, she still pondered over what had possessed her, and why, within hours, the stars aligned as the balls in the Perspex mixer jiggled on live television, popping out in an orderly fashion while she watched, riveted, certain of the outcome.

She thought of him and smiled. Even in death he somehow remained the ultimate showman.