Day One, and I’ve already broken my arbitrary length rule! It’s OK. It will be alright. Please tell me that…
– . – . –
“Congratulations! You’re a winner!”
The doctor leaned back in his chair as waiting for laughter.
“You’re the recipient of one the rarest kinds. Only twelve known cases.”
I stared at the pair of large pink fuzzy dice in his hands.
“I’m cursed to be so lucky,” I said.
“As with all things, it is curable with all time and money in the world,” he said.
The doctor squeezed one die and released his grip, letting it regain shape before squeezing the other. “But who has these things in abundance,” he asked.
“Not me,” I said.
“Nope. Not you.”
The doctor tossed one die in the air and caught it, then tossed the other. I stood to leave but hesitated.
“Just tell me it will be alright,” I said.
“These were my dad’s. I found them hanging from his rear view mirror, just like this.” He dangled the matching pair by attached strings.
“That’s what I really need to hear. That I will be alright, I mean.”
“I was first on the scene.”
“Tell me. Please.”
“I miss that man.”
“I miss his laugh.”
“Just say the words.”
“He was my hero.”
“Please, just tell me that things will work out.”
The doctor tossed the dice from hand to hand, like a circus performer, almost juggling.
“Lie to me,” I begged.
“Want to try your hand at fate again,” the doctor asked.
I snatched the pink cubes out of midair. “I thought you’d never ask,” I said.
The doctor pointed to my right. I turned toward his extended finger.
“Wait! Rule #1: Stand behind the line.”
I looked down to see a strip of well-worn yellow tape on the floor. The tips of my shoes covered it. I backed up a few inches until the tape was in front of me.
“Rule #2: The dice must bounce off the wall, then where they land, they land.”
“You haven’t told me what I should roll.”
“That’s not one of the rules,” the doctor said. “Good luck.”
I judged the distance, and wiggled my shoes until my toes were touching the edge of the tape.
Then I threw the dice as hard as I could.
. – . – .