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She doesn’t believe in luck.
A four-leafed clover is a mutation. A rabbit foot is grotesque. A cross never kept her safe from harm.
He believes in luck, but then he believes in anything; an all encompassing believe based on a faith in humanity that so few have.
He would touch wood to ward off bad luck, or bury a broken mirror in red paper outside, because that’s what you did.
She’ll never have faith in humanity. She’s seen too many wrongs to believe, but she buries mirrors, if ever she breaks them.
And she misses Thomas more each day.
