Alex woke before his alarm. Outside the window, the world was a canvas of gray, with beads of rain clinging to the glass. Coffee was boiling on the stove.
On the table lay his flight tickets, the printout for his business trip, and a shirt, neatly folded by his wife, Elena. He glanced around the kitchen and thought with a familiar irritation that everything was the same as always. Deadlines, phone calls, a suitcase by the door, and a silence in the house that was worse than any noise.
“Alex,” Elena called from the other room. “I warmed up some oatmeal. Have a spoonful, at least.”
“Later!” he shouted back, pulling on his jacket.
“I’m late.”
She came out into the hallway and straightened his collar. The movement was practiced and cautious, as if she were afraid to disturb his rare moment of calm. “At least call me when you land,” she asked quietly.
“I’ll call,” he replied, already reaching for the doorknob. Elena took a breath, as if she were about to say something important, but she stopped herself. He didn’t notice that breath.
He grabbed his bag, slammed the door, and habitually skipped two steps as he ran outside. The air was damp and cool. Puddles shimmered underfoot.
The taxi was late. He looked at his watch and shrugged his shoulders in annoyance. The airport was a chaotic sea of people: luggage carts, announcements, someone shouting, “Hurry up!” He clutched his bag, practically running toward the check-in counter, his eyes fixed on the departure board.
A single thought consumed him: get there, check the bag, get through security. As he rounded a corner, he stumbled, a flash of colorful fabric catching his eye. Alex steadied himself on a handrail and turned around.
A little girl was sitting on the floor by the wall, with dark, knowing eyes and a long, dark braid. In her hands, she held an old doll with a tattered ribbon, a creature of mismatched patches, worn and thin, but it stared right at him. He snapped.
“Why are you sitting here? Can’t you see people are walking?”
The girl didn’t flinch. She just smiled, a small, knowing smile, and asked quietly, “Your wife bought you that ticket, didn’t she?”
Alex blinked.
“What?”
“Return it,” she said calmly. “Go back home. A gift of fate is waiting for you.”
He scoffed and stepped away.
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