Lady Luck: Hoodie x Reader

Chapter 8

           Luck tends to run along a scale with two ends: good and bad. Most of my experiences involve the "god-awful" end of that scale, to the point that I'm left largely desensitized to it. Near-death experiences can get surprisingly normal after escaping from disasters completely unscathed so many times. However, while bad luck tends to dominate my experiences, that doesn't mean I don't have any experience with good luck. Actually, it's quite the opposite.

           For me, luck always balances out. For every disaster I face, at some point afterwards I'll run into something good. Vending machines will give me extra drinks or snacks when I use them, my name would be drawn in raffles at school... Hell, after a while my parents started taking me to buy scratch cards after really bad incidents because I'd always win at least twenty dollars. The good stuff just gets kind of drowned out by all the bad stuff because seeing a person die tends to be more memorable than finding a hundred dollar bill.

          Considering all the bad disasters I'd run into lately, some good luck was well overdue—especially after all that stuff in that abandoned building. The drug deal, getting chased by Hoody, that faceless monster... That one night racked up more dangerous encounters in a couple hours than I usually experience over the course of a couple months. I was owed a LOT of good luck for it, and that luck manifested in meeting Tim.

          Becoming friends with Tim really was the best thing that's happened to me since becoming homeless. Perks of having a friend with an actual place to live, even if you yourself live on the streets, are almost endless. On that very first day we met, I took my first free shower in five months. So much of my money was spent renting a motel room just so I could use a shower, but now I had a free place to shower and could save that money for other important things.

          Cooking also became infinitely simpler. A lot of the food I can afford requires some form of preparation, and most homeless people can't exactly afford to buy pots and pans, let alone microwaves or stoves. Tim, meanwhile, a full-ish kitchen with all of that stuff, so for the first time in ages I was able to make myself a full-fledged meal. We worked out a potluck sort of deal: a couple times a week, we'd both pool together our own food to make a nice meal, ultimately saving us both money.

           Those are just two of the perks I get from using Tim's place; I could go on for hours about all the other benefits from knowing him. For the first time in ages, I finally have a bit of stability in my life. However, even so, this arrangement is more one of mutual beneficence than friendship. Tim and I are on pretty good terms, yes, but we're not best friends. Most of my visits last a couple hours at most, and I only go every couple of days. Outside of those times, we rarely meet except if we run into each other on the street. He's only come to the park once since then.

            Today just happened to be the second time.

          "...And then he said I had a pretty good resume, but he wanted someone with at least five years of experience, and that program's only two years old!" He groaned loudly, leaning his head back against the tree. "The job doesn't even use computers that much, it's mostly physical labor!"

          "Sounds like they'll be looking for new employees for a while," I remarked, taking a sip from my water bottle.