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One last roll of the dice.
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"Go on! It's your turn to roll anyway!" They say, jokingly. "You know the rules."
They pass you the dice, ten smooth black sides, with white engraved spiralling numbers. You know the rules.
You roll the dice. It comes out as a 6... another 6... and a 9. You feel foolish worrying about that moment. Alright...second roll.
You roll again, relaxed this time, revelling in the spiralled numbers dancing across the dimly lit table.
6...6...9, in that order, tumble across the table in a line.
Your co-players are staring at the dice. "At least there's a nine," one of them mentions with a nervous laugh. You realise you're sweating heavily, and nervously laugh yourself, your throat too hoarse to agree. You take a swill of soda to wet your parched mouth and then wet your lips.
Alright. One more roll.
The clack of the dice preceeds their spider like skitter across the table.
The room is silent as one die rolls off the table edge with some force.
Heads turn as you follow it and see it land