I attended a lecture at a well-known university last night. The lecture was from one of my favorite authors, a woman with an impish grin and a gnarled wooden cane. I had been planning to go for months and had marked the event on my calendar with several exclamation points. A friend was coming along, and we set a place and time to meet up before the lecture. As fate would have it, I was kept late at work. This never happens. When I arrived at the top of the station stairs to catch my connecting train, I had a text message from said friend: “Late as usual, still waiting at X station.” I gasped to myself, seeing her familiar brown hair, just down the platform. It must be a sign.
