Happy Ticket

Somewhere past the ferris wheel the light turns gold and a ticket hangs in the air with four numbers on it. Rounds are small here. A grid of symbols turned face down, a jigsaw of a torn ticket, four codes where only one adds up right, a thirty second shower of tickets falling through the sky. Each one you finish leaves another ticket in the book, and the book quietly fills. The chest waits for a combination you actually hold. Nothing hurries you toward it.