Coincidence

I once met a man who said he knew the universe's secrets. I’ll never forget it. His eyes looked like shattered glass, fragmented like his smile. He was emaciated, dressed in a coat and beanie, sitting underneath a highway with everything he owned piled up beside him.

“I’ve seen it all,” he said.

“How?” I asked.

“Well, partially because I created it.”

I paused. “So, what, you’re God then?”

The man chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Something like that.”

I couldn’t remember why I had stopped to talk to him. He didn’t have a cardboard sign or seem particularly out of sorts, and it’s not like he was sitting on a sidewalk where I couldn’t avoid him. And yet, here I was.

“Alright, if you know so much, tell me this: are our lives already written?” I asked.

He shrugged. “The road is paved, but you’re still driving the car. Free will is funny like that.”

I felt annoyed but couldn’t bring myself to walk away from him.

“So let me guess, coincidences are just mere happenstance? Pure chaos? Nothing but particles slamming into each other until something sticks?”

The old man looked up at me with those broken eyes. I’d never seen anything like it. Every possible color reflected at me through those irises like a twirling kaleidoscope.

“What makes you say that? Seems pretty specific,” he said.

“I’m just trying to figure some shit out. Things have been rough, but now it’s all working out. It all seems too good to be true. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

The man shook his head. “They don’t need you to believe in them. To answer your question, they are sometimes born from order or chaos, but make no mistake; they are always born for a reason.”

“What does that even mean? Listen, I'm sorry, but I'm running late. Here, I’ve got some cash,” I said, reaching for my wallet.

The old man lowered his head. “It means you should call her back. It wasn’t a coincidence that you met, but it was absolutely one that brought us together.”

I reached into my wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill. As I handed it to the old man, my entire body froze. His eyes were back to normal. Just a pair of weary brown irises looking back at me.

“What happened to your eyes?” I asked, “Can you see me?”

He nodded. “I can see you just fine, boy; what are you doing here?”

“We, uh, we were just talking. Don’t you remember?”

The man’s new eyes scanned me up and down. “I think I’d remember talking to some corporate stiff like you. Nice suit, by the way.”

“Well, anyway, this is for you. Thanks for the advice,” I said, giving him the cash.

“Well, alright then. You have a blessed day, boss man,” he said, his tone shifting once the money was in hand.

“You too.”

I walked back to my car, still idling beneath the freeway. The events that led up to that moment were a blur. I climbed into the driver’s seat and looked down to my right. My phone was unlocked, sitting on a text message conversation with “Danielle”

I looked it over again:

I enjoyed meeting you today.

Me, too; I can’t believe we have so much in common.

Give me a call sometime. Here’s my personal number.

I copied the number and pasted it into the dial screen. So much had happened, and it felt like so much would happen. I didn’t want to get hurt again.

“Not a coincidence? Alright, here we go,” I said, pressing the call button.