I played my first game with Death when I was 27. I rode my motorcycle in a rain storm. Stupid, but I felt invincible. When I skid to a stop on the pavement, Death stood over me.

Death wore a black cloak and flames danced in it’s eyes. Death smiled and it’s teeth were sharp and black. I told it I wouldn’t go with it. It laughed, pulled out two dice, and told me high roll wins, best 2/3. I used the last of my strength and beat Death. I thought Death would be mad, but it wasn’t a sore loser. Instead, Death told me to roll again. It would give me the number I rolled times 10 in years. I rolled a 6. I wanted to argue with Death. 60 years didn’t seem quite long enough, but figured it’d be a bad idea to defy Death twice in a day. Death disappeared. An ambulance showed up.

At 28 I met the love of my life.

At 30 we married.

At 32 she gave birth to a set of twins.

At 42 we took a trip to Disney.

At 48 the twins got their driver’s licenses.

At 50 the twins left for college and my wife and I celebrated our 20 year anniversary.

At 54 I had a stroke. It left me immobile, mute, and in a care facility. My wife still visited everyday.

At 58 the twins stopped visiting. They said it was too sad.

At 63 I noticed my wife starting to look frail and her visits became less frequent.

At 64 she stopped coming.

Then I lost track of time. I didn’t know if it was years or months. I started to grow impatient for Death’s visit. Then it finally came.

Death showed up as a beautiful woman in a clinging slip of a dress. Dark hair tumbled over it’s shoulders to the mid of it’s back. Death smiled at me and it’s teeth were still sharp and black. It pulled out two dice, and told me high roll wins, best 2/3. I couldn’t roll the dice, so Death rolled for me. I beat Death again. I was a sore winner. I began to silently cry. It rolled a 1. Death left with a twirl and I began my 10 year sentence.