Fiction: Dice

Kris’s big green fuzzy dice hung motionless in place.

“They don’t look half bad there,” said Kris’s father.

“No, they don’t,” Kris’s friend Darren agreed.

“I was skeptical, but they work,” Kris’s grandfather said.

“I still don’t think they’re appropriate,” Kris’s mother said. “But I’m not going to argue the point. I suppose they’re not hurting anything, either.”

“I think they’re appropriate,” Kris’s little sister said quietly.

They finally turned away and walked down the little aisle. A man in a dark suit smiled gravely at them and nodded a good night; they would all be back in the morning.

The big green fuzzy dice — which alone had survived the wreck — swung a little as the man closed the casket, and they came to rest on Kris’s chest.

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