The saint who was consoled by the card-playing angel had never invited her inside. She just appeared one day between the stuffed bears, between the chairs that were almost broken, between the sheets of the empty bed. She knew all the games, and taught the saint most of them. He never understood why there was always one card left over, one filled with words that resembled an explanation, that resembled a saint like himself who had always been alone, even when his room was filled with unexpected guests.