It was one of those endless, drizzly Tuesday nights. The kind where the clock seems to be stuck in molasses, and the only sound is the constant, gentle tap-tap-tap of rain against the windowpane. I’d finished my work, scrolled through every social media app until my thumb hurt, and re-watched a show I didn’t even like. I was just so profoundly, monumentally bored. I found myself typing random things into the search bar, just for something to do. I remember my fingers idly tapping out kgf 2 movie download sky247, not because I was looking for it, but just as a sequence of letters and numbers. And wouldn’t you know it, one of the top results was for this online casino. I laughed. The algorithm had clearly given up on me. Out of sheer, defiant curiosity, I clicked it.

The site was flashy, I’ll give it that. All bright lights and promises of instant fun. I’m not a gambler. The last time I’d gambled was with poker chips that were actually just cookies my friends and I used during a game night. But the rain was still falling, and the silence in my apartment was starting to feel loud. They had a welcome bonus—some free spins on a slot machine. “Why not?” I thought. It’s not real money. It’s just a way to kill twenty minutes.

So I started spinning. It was a silly slot game with a jungle theme, tigers and treasure chests. The first few spins did nothing. A few little wins here and there, but the credits just dribbled in and out. I was half-watching, half-staring out the window at the neon sign of the laundromat across the street, its reflection shimmering on the wet asphalt. Then it happened. I wasn’t even looking properly. I hit the spin button and went to take a sip of my tea. The screen exploded with light and sound. A cascade of coins, a fanfare of trumpets. I’d triggered the bonus round. My heart did this little jump, like when you miss a step on the stairs. I sat up straight, putting my mug down.

The bonus round was a picking game. You had to choose from different treasure chests to reveal multipliers. My hands were actually a little shaky. It was so stupid, but the tension was real. I picked one—x5. Another—x10. The credits were climbing, these digital numbers that felt completely abstract. I picked a third chest. The screen flashed gold. x100. My jaw literally dropped. I was alone in my room, grinning like an idiot at a cartoon jungle on my laptop screen. When the round finished, I had a balance that, if it were real money, would have covered my groceries for a month. Of course, it wasn't real. I knew that. But the thrill was. It was a pure, childish, unadulterated shot of joy.