[ it's not always chance ]

“Bored.’

He rolls the cubes in his hand. Five squares, cool to his palm, perfect little imperfections etched into their surface.

“Really, really bored.’

He drops one onto the table top, knowing without having to ask that it is a six. He´d felt the edge, it told him all it needed to.

“Seriously. Damn. Bored.’

He drops two more, and is starting to smile now, because the second one was a five and the third a three.

“You´d think you´d learn, you know.’

He drops one this time, because why let go of that tension in the room? He likes it better this way, knowing the first was a two, and the next would be a four.

“You´d think you´d want to stop playing. But no. No, Lori. You never learn.’

And there it is, that final click clack as the dice bounces a turn and a half and he hears Lorenzo curse. Bingo, Bob, why that would be the four.

“Let me remind you. Yes, Lorenzo, I am that good. 40 points for the blind man.’

He hears Lorenzo mumbling under his breath about ‘fair´ and ‘no sense´ and ‘impossible,´ the pencil scratching against the paper messily.

“See, Lorenzo. I told you you didn´t want to play me at Yahtzee.’

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