It was maybe half past two
when the rain cleared and we stepped out from under the awning when a bird
swooped down and dropped some shit on her shoulder. She stared at it for a long
moment before I tried to cut the tension.
“Well you know that’s considered lucky.”
She glared at me, then a bus zoomed past, drenching her with
water from the backed up gutter. I thought quickly.
“That’s lucky in Mongolia
you know.”
Then someone bumped the awning and more water drenched her.
“Buy a lottery ticket!” I urged.
She only got three numbers right.
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