44800

One hundred miles later: 44800 Perfect timing

This is the first entry in my odd little side project, One hundred miles later. To figure out what the heck I’m doing, you can read the original entry.

Everything is life is perfectly timed.. it has me in awe sometimes.. It’s perfectly perfect, sometimes perfectly horrible. One person may be perfectly too late to make the train, another perfectly on the train that’s fated to crash and burn.

Why am I thinking about this? When I got to the ATM machine, it was blinking “Do you need more time for this transaction?” I pushed “no,” and out popped someone else’s card. We know his name is Brett and he likes leaving debit cards in machines — the kind that dont have signatures to check on them. I’m sure his mom is giving him a good lecture about it so I won’t. Especially because my whole reason for going to that atm was to check if an other debit card still worked since I couldn’t find my old one. So, Brett’s mom, point taken.

But the other point is, I’m not going to rob Brett. At a busy ATM, I got there after he was out of sight (I looked around) but before anyone else. Perfect timing.
It would be amazing to watch the world, removed, from a bird’s eye view… and to be able to see all the possible situations around you that you that you could chance upon. A gas station you pass up for the next one down the road would have sold you a winning scratch ticket. If you would have had your coffee to stay rather than to go, you would have been there when your soulmate walked into the coffeeshop instead of meeting them 5 years later. But the timing wasn’t right. Perfect.

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