Three cards turned. Six of Keys. Knight of Keys. Repetition was useless to him. Tomb.
“Just means change,” he told himself.
An email arrived.
Due to several financial irregularities, you may no longer call the office your home.”
He screamed obscenities until he fell silent, empty. Homeless.
The final jigsaw piece slips into place, and somewhere, Arthur Miller breathes a heavy sigh of relief, the futile inevitability of the story laid out bare before him.
The tarot generator lent a cruel irony to the intended ending, and I did consider extending beyond the minimum word count, though given the concept, and the setting, I figured any struggle should be shown to be brutally squashed by the uncaring system Gavin represented.