“You stumble, trip on a crack in the sidewalk, fall flat. Curse under your breath, blame the crooked streets, the broken system that put you there. But you don’t know, man. You don’t know what was coming down that street, heading straight for you like a freight train outta nowhere. That crack, that misstep—it shifted the whole damn trajectory. You sit there in the dirt, thinking you’ve hit rock bottom, when in fact you just dodged a bullet. The universe, with its grimy hands, always weaving threads you can’t see. The real disaster? You’ll never know. The real catastrophe? It’s always just one step behind, breathing down your neck. That’s the trick of it, kid—your bad luck? It’s a shield, deflecting the shitstorm just out of view. But hey, don’t get cocky. Chaos likes to balance the books.”