anelovesturtle
Looking back at her life, the "random" turns now look like a series of guided tracks. The job she lost, the train she missed, the stranger who held the door-it wasn't a series of mishaps. It was the string tightening its grip, reeling her toward a center she never asked for.
She spent years treating the world like a map she had drawn herself, convinced that every destination was a result of her own two feet. To her, "fate" was just a word people used when they were too tired to take credit for their own choices.
But time has a way of turning skeptics into witnesses. Now, years later, the "metaphor" she mocked has become a physical, pulsing reality.