luck

I am not a superstitious person, but today I had such a Hitchcock encounter with a black cat that any happy feelings about the nice weather instantaneously became ominous suspense.

After a satisfying brunch, I had been gliding leisurely to the train station listening to Sigur Rós' Heysátan when suddenly, the sound of a baby wailing pervaded my ears. At first I thought it was part of the song, brushing off the absurdity as Icelandic quirkiness. But all too soon, a slender black cat came pouncing across the narrow street towards me, back arched and baring its fangs. Its meow was shrill, and there was something grotesque about the redness of its mouth and its yellow eyes. I hastened my pace and looked back only once. The kitty stared back, menacingly.

For the rest of my walk and the train ride which followed, I thought about the implications of bad luck. Disappointed by my lack of imagination, I retired to reading my book and forgot about my imminent misfortune. It wasn't until I checked my emails just before did my superstitious nerves come back to life.

I don't know what consecutive numbers mean in terms of luck, but this did make me feel very lucky.



Does this mean my spell of bad luck is over before it even began? I am still very anxious.