Luck
“Why do you do that for?”, asked the ponytail boy.
“Don’t you know?”, said the prettiest girl in the world. She had just opened a new pack of marlboro’s. The first thing she did was to remove one of the cigarettes and put it back in, but with the filter down. “It’s for luck!”
“You have to have a lucky cigarette”, the other girl agreed.
“That’s silly”, said the ponytail boy.
“That’s fantastic”, I said.
And, at that particular café table, three years ago, luck seemed to matter a lot. There was snow, and borrowed gloves. The prettiest girl and I listened to Ben Folds and ran around in the studios at night, being far younger than I can remember having been ever before. Luck was real and solid.
So why, today, does it only ever comes into play when ordering airplane tickets?