four
I have never liked the number four. I always avoided it and thought it was bad luck. I refuse to buy four of anything at the supermarket, it has to be three or five.
I don’t have OCD. I just don’t like four.
Strange thing is, the number four seems to follow me, and has been doing so for a while now. I pretended not to notice until it became very clear that four seemed to be my number.
I pointed out to Patrick one day that every cafe we go to, they always hand us the table number four. He hadn’t noticed but from that day on has become more and more convinced four must be my lucky number.
It’s not just table numbers, but every numbered thing.
I am testing the theory here. I am writing about it. Putting it on record. I wonder if the number four will continue to follow me now I have outed it…
Speaking of four…
Patrick saw four weird things on the way to meet me this evening. He saw a very angry looking man on the train with a hitler moustache and japanese army uniform, another man covered in blood and being hauled away to an awaiting ambulance, a man waiting at the station to molest passersby, and he said there was another thing but he forgot…. all very unsavoury.
The ambulance was still outside my workplace when I came out, and there were more police cars than I have ever seen all rushing off in the same direction…. Must have been something interesting happening somewhere…
A little scary really.
At least the police sirens are not as eerie as the others I think might be the fire brigade’s sirens. These sirens sound like an air raid warning, a very spooky sound. We hear them all the time from work, but I still haven’t got used to them. When we hear them while walking home on the little quiet streets, it sounds like the world is ending.
Comments
Post a comment