You stand there: the edge of a cliff, waiting for the final gust of wind to come along and knock you over. And it comes, and in the same second, karma swells up from the void, warmly caresses your face as it sends you bouncing back, a little further from the edge. Or is it karma? Does such a force exist?

Maybe, unconsciously, we spend our lives weaving some kludgy safety net. Though not an overt attempt to save ourselves from known harm, it somehow is there, at precisely the moment it's needed, granting temporary salvation.

We call ourselves lucky.

But there's something more than coincidence there. You have no food and the men from the cafeteria decide to bring you a whole pizza because they've made one too many, and so you're not hungry. And tracing it back, you can't think of anything you've done for them, though you're always nice and they know you and where you work. Or you've given up every ambition of going to school, but two weeks before classes begin, you telephone one last time, to make sure there's no hope.. And they tell you you're accepted, to pack your things and the letter was lost in the mail. Boom. 180.

Somewhere behind the present, a butterfly flapped its wings and set things in motion, things you didn't see and cannot trace in hindsight. Or maybe circumstances just aligned, just in time, so what you needed was there a second before you collapsed. And it happens every time, making it hard to feel the weight of mistakes because you don't suffer the consequences, only the fear of them.

And we call ourselves lucky.

And we wonder, if it's only luck, when it will run out.

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