More corny fiction

Success was never the goal, he thought to himself as he looked out the window. Outside the clouds obstructed his view of the ground, where the saga of humankind unfolded in whatever podunk midwestern town he was currently flying over. He then shifted his gaze to the passenger next to him, a fairly young man wearing a suit who was probably on a business trip. A wry grin crossed his face as lyrics from "the gambler" entered his mind and he briefly contemplated asking the guy if he had any whisky or cigarettes he could bum. But of course, there is no smoking on airplanes anymore, although he could remember a time when there was. A time before internet poker, or laser-eye surgery, or even Ashlee Simpson.
Yes, once I had been a young man, always ready for the next adventure, whatever it was. He had killed people in the name of his country, pounded 18 vodka shots in a 2 hour period, cared for his dying mother, fucked 15 year old vietnamese prostitutes, and even once, been married.
Despite all the mistakes he had made in his life, he had no regrets. None were possible in his eyes. The reason for this is because if he had been a few minutes later to the card table that night in Atlantic City, he might never would have met the love of his life......

He had just gotten discharged from the service a week ago, and he had spent the last few days in a sort of drunken haze with some fellow navy men as they tried their best to live up to the proverbial "drunken sailor" axiom with their final checks. At some point he had lost track of his buddies, and he had a hankering to play some blackjack, so he sat down at a table that only had three people playing and cashed in $100 bucks. While the dealer went through the motions, he groggily surveyed his tablemates, and his life was forever altered. What he saw to his left was a woman with black hair, a mink coat, and the sexiest eyes he had ever seen. He stared at her beauty until she turned to him, favored him with a wry grin, and asked him if he saw anything green. Embarrassed, he turned away, mumbling an apology incoherently. She laughed at this bashfulness from a 6'2 220 pound man and said "well if not, you must not have been looking at my eyes then."
Eventually they began talking, and eventually this led to more, and eventually they became husband and wife. His wanderlust dissipated, and they spent countless nights talking to each other from the comfort of their home, their laughs echoing off the walls. One of their favorite pastimes was to play poker against each other. They would always take these rituals seriously, as both were skilled players, and did whatever they could to throw the other off by breaking their past patterns. Still, the victory wasn't important, what they both loved was staring into the eyes of each other, attempting to see through the person that they loved more than any other.
But she was gone now, having been buried last fall after a short and losing battle with Cancer. His days were empty after she left, and he had often contemplated joining her, wherever that might be. One of his few remaining friends noticed his funk and had told him one evening of a website where he could play cards for money just like in a casino. He fired it up, reminiscing about the games he used to play with his love. He did not play to win, only to recapture some of those memories, to remember her eyes. But here, there was no love, just graphics and cards. But still he played his best, as he had always done, and in one tournament, had won a trip to play in the World Series of Poker Main Event. So here he was, flying high in the sky, traveling to Las Vegas on a one-way ticket. In his suitcase were two pairs of clothes, a bag of toiletries, a photograph of his wife, and an industrial sized bottle of sleeping pills. He turned back to the window and stared vacantly at the clouds, his mind focused on a pair of green eyes.