Fiction.

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked, as we both stared blankly at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I’m open to the idea, but I haven’t decided yet.”

We weren’t supposed to be there. We weren’t supposed to be lying there, naked, exhausted, staring blankly at my bedroom ceiling. We weren’t supposed to have our paths cross that Saturday afternoon just a week ago.

But because I got onto the wrong bus - 74 instead of 174 - really silly I know - and because there was only one empty seat - beside her of course - and because it looked like she was reading Gödel, Escher, Bach - a book I greatly admire, I couldn’t resist.

“Are you reading Gödel, Escher, Bach?”

“Yes, actually,” her eyes still on the page.

“This is one cool book. Do you actually understand it?”

She laughed and looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and this sweetest smile that I can never get enough of. “Well just a bit. Are you gonna help me?”

Although I ended up far from my intended destination, let’s just say that, for the first time, it didn’t bother me one bit.

“Well, I believe in fate,” she replied, turning to face me.

“So you’re saying that we were fated to meet?”

“Yes of course.”

I wasn’t so sure.

She continued, “you seem to find that hard to believe?”

“That’s because we weren’t even supposed to meet!” I blurted, “I could have easily taken the right bus instead of the wrong one. The seat beside you could easily have been empty. You could easily have been listening to your iPod instead. A billion other things could have happened and should have happened to make today nonexistent. This is too much for me.”

“Which is exactly why we’re fated to meet,” she said softly into my ear, as she slid her hand and rested it on my chest.

“What if I decided to test fate by leaving you?” Or was I really testing her?

She fell silent. I turned to look at her, but I couldn’t tell the thoughts she had. I soon noticed that her eyes seemed wet.

“You won’t. I’ll kill you first.”