Celia put down the binoculars, reaching for her handbag. She dipped a beautifully manicured hand into its depths, pulling out the rumpled list of runners for the 2:50pm race. The odds confused her so she ran her eyes down the names instead. Charles often made fun of her for betting on horses by name, but he stopped laughing last week when Montezuma's Horizon won with odds of 40/1. Celia's bet of £40 didn't seem so silly after that.

"Charles, which one are you betting on?" she asked.

"I’m putting money on two of them. Terrabyte of Doom and Wessex Whirlwind”, replied Charles, fiddling with his cufflinks.

Celia looked up the names. Terrabyte of Doom was running at 3/2, Wessex Whirlwind at 8/1. She assumed they must be good odds or he wouldn’t have bet on them. She trusted his judgment in these matters.

“Have you chosen one, darling?” asked Charles.

“The names are so boring in this race. Only one of them has caught my eye so far”, she replied.

“Which one?”

“Outside Chance”.

Want to comment on this Flash Fiction? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Flash Fiction and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...