“Are you superstitious?” a guy asked me just the other night as it started to grow dark outside and the shadows formed by the trees made strange lines dance across my ceiling.
I’m not usually the type to answer a question with a question, but I couldn’t stop myself from wondering aloud what caused him to even ask me such a thing in the first place.
“I just want to know more about you,” he replied simply, normally.
“I’m not particularly superstitious,” I told him with a lightness in my voice and a smile on my face.
I chose in that moment not to reveal that I’d recently made a major life decision based entirely on the advice given to me by a Magic Eight Ball. I think it was probably the right choice, but I’ll ask the ball the question later just to be sure.