It might be coincidence.
Earlier today, driving through downtown to a meeting, I wait to turn right at a corner as a man limps through the crosswalk. He glances over to me as he passes in front of my car, making sure I see him. I nod. He gives me a wave and limps past.
Later, lunch duty at my daughter’s school, one of the kids limps after his friends, saying “Wait up, guys!”
After dinner, I get up from the table and find that my foot had fallen asleep. I limp around for a while on pins and needles.
It doesn’t occur to me at the time.
But then before my son’s band concert, there was the man with an extremely pronounced limp. He walks with a grimace, each step and his face twists.
And I say “Well, that’s odd.”
But . . . after the concert, while we wait for the musicians to pack up their instruments, two boys limp past me.
They limp like the man earlier in the evening, like me after dinner, like the boy at school, the man on the street this morning.
It might be coincidence. It must be coincidence.