GG Domínguez

Martín Domínguez ran a milonga in San Telmo for forty years and now plays backgammon at the same café table, the same seat, six evenings out of seven, a routine as fixed as anything he once set to a tango orchestra. The seventh evening is kept for nothing in particular, which he considers the whole point of having one. Regulars know exactly where to find him and rarely bother checking first. He plays a deep, unhurried game full of stories, judging the cube with the same patience he once judged a dance floor, waiting for the room to tell him when to move. A loss gets a shrug and a story; a win gets the same story, told slightly louder.