Do you believe in fate? I asked him as we sat at a table in the bar of a theater in Brixton on our unofficial first date. No, he said, I don't believe in fate. I believe in chance.
I knew he was wrong. Already, I knew he was wrong. Here we were, sitting across from each other on the other side of the world from home. So much in common, so much to start from. Was that chance? No.
Chance. As if our meeting was random. Accidental.
We had met on the street. Brought together by a series of planned circumstances and impulsive decisions. Anything different and we may not have met. But we did.
This post was based on the Writing Workshop prompt Fate over at Sleep is for the Weak.