You know that thing that happens when you start to clean your room and then stop in the middle of it when you find something amusing that distracts you? Welp, turns out that when you’re packing everything you own, you find a lot more amusing things than when you’re just cleaning. Which means you stop a lot more often. And the whole ordeal takes a lot more time than it should. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.
“Mermaids?” “Mermaids.” “Mermaids?” she repeats with a different inflection. “Mermaids,” I mimic her accent. “Why?” “Why not?” I chuckle. “I was browsing online to see if I could find something to pull me out of this slump, and look…” Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.
THE END OF LUCKY CHARMS?March 31, 2047 It’s official: the four-leaf clover you’ve been carrying around inside your wallet is useless — but your genes might not be. By now, you’ve certainly heard of Aurora Zeinallah. Eighteen months ago, the Sudanese scientist put her small town on the map when she came on the record about a curious study — the genetic traits of luck. With an already large pool of volunteers, Zeinallah came to the public to invite people who might be interested in participating in her research and ask for funds. The unusual theme coupled with the Doctor’s impressive resume garnered a lot of attention from the media and some eccentric billionaires. The scientific community, however, laughed and turned their back on her. Apparently, though, she who laughs last, laughs the longest. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.
I wake up early, in time to watch the first rays of sunlight shyly reach the wall. From the bed, I can see the bright blue sky through the window, almost as if the snowstorm that threatened the city last night was just an illusion. I get up and walk over, curious to assess the damages. My eyes hurt with all the white reflecting the sun — everything is covered. The back garden looks more like a cloud. I dress up quickly, skipping over coffee, and go straight to the front porch. A shiver runs down my spine, more due to the eeriness of the sight than the cold itself. I don’t feel the cold. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.