I hate closing time. That last call for all those who have nowhere to go and nothing to lose. I used to pity them, staring morosely into the bottom of a beer stein as if scrying the future from the froth.

Now I was one of them. I flipped a coin, watching how the light caught it as it spun in the air.

“C’mon buddy, you need to get out of here. Bar’s closed.â€?

I looked up at the earnest young man in front of me, probably using tips to pay his way through college. He didn’t have that jaundiced look that the lifers get after pedaling alcohol for half their lives to frat boys and alcoholics.

“How much have you ever lost with the toss of a coin?â€? I asked, holding the coin up in the air. A quarter.

“Okay dude, I think you’ve had enough to drink,â€? Mr. Earnest replied. “Just take a cab home and sleep it off.â€?

I smiled slightly. “Would you ever bet everything? Imagine, an entire fortune resting on the outcome of a single statistical probability.â€?

Getting up, I tossed the coin to him. “Keep the change.â€?