When Coincidence was meant to stumble into Fate.

Recently, I was looking at the image that circulates around the internet of the quote from the Musings: The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories that reads ‘“Well, look who I ran into,” crowed Coincidence. 

“Please,” flirted Fate, “this was meant to be.”’

I sincerely hope that by turning it into a slightly longer story, I won’t ruin the sheer beauty of it.

-

Coincidence lives a lifetime of serendipity.

He’s twenty three and lives in an apartment with a great view that he got for a steal simply because he bumped into a realtor in the supermarket who gushed about it to him in the line at the grocery store as he paid for his bananas.

He buys two lottery scratch cards on his way home and finds himself $70 richer. Twice. And then he manages to catch the elevator doors the second before they close on their way up to the 72nd floor.

Coincidence really loves his view.



Fate believes in destiny, and isn’t quite sure why she can’t seem to settle down yet.

She’s all about the fortune cookies, and the love at first sight and the kismet. She doesn’t really believe that anything, ever, is an accident.

So she leaves home and heads for work at the nine-to-five she needs to pay the bills, and stumbles into the wrong building out of her own carelessness. They’re holding interviews.

Fate loves her new job.



A club? Coincidence thinks. Well, why not.

Fate really shouldn’t be out this late if she wants to be just-early-enough for her perfect job.

Coincidence doesn’t even like to drink.

Fate is a lightweight.

“Can I have just a Coke please?” Fate tries to say to the bartender, but struggles to be heard over the music. He doesn’t hear her. He shakes his head, and begins to turn to service another, louder, customer.

“Two Cokes,” Coincidence says loudly, his voice perfectly finding a break in the music. The bartender nods and bends to pick two out of the fridge.

Fate runs her finger through the wet ring her glass makes on the wooden counter.



Coincidence dips his head closer, smiling. “Well, look who I ran into,” crowed Coincidence.

“Please,” flirted Fate, “this was meant to be.”

--

I apologise. The continuity in this is so terrible, but I was so bored I had to do something. Even if it is a very bad something. I don’t own the original story. There’s my disclaimer. And my apology.

Truly, I'm more of a coincidence myself.