Just a little stitious

“Trust me, this one is the real deal.” He reassured me again as we approached the temple to get our fortune sticks drawn.

“I hope so.”

I think it came out doubtful.

I’m not a superstitious person. I don’t believe in a higher power, or am a fan of games of luck in general. It just doesn’t make sense to let a mere stick in a cylinder dictate your actions for the rest of the year.

Getting a peek into the future seems interesting, but its all fun and games until you get the bad end of the stick. What then? Am I supposed to spend each day fearing for the uncertain, agonising over every bad outcome whether it was because of a mistake I’ve made or part of fates plan all along? Sure you’re supposed to take the reading with a grain of salt, but why get bad vibes at all when you could avoid them from the get go?

But he seemed pretty hyped about it all.

There were two cylinders to choose from. He hovered his hand above them and looked my way as he raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Whichever.” I shrugged. As if it made a difference. He ended up choosing the narrower one because he “had a good feeling about it.”

There were also some rituals you gotta do before you shake your cylinder. Just formalities. Yet he followed them right down to the tee. From getting the incense, clapping and bowing thrice, to sticking them in perfectly even intervals in the incense bowl. You know, the whole package. “Gotta be respectful for them to favour you with a good omen,” he said, before kneeling down to finally shake that fortune stick out.

I guess it’s hard to be so cynical and pessimistic when someone is so serious about it. “I’m sure you’ll get a good one,” he smiled and handed me the cylinder when he was done.

“I hope so.” I closed my eyes and said a little prayer inside. I really did.

Maybe I am a little stitious after all.