She'd gone out for the night and he stared at his dead skin. Perhaps it was a stupid idea. A sudden wave of embarrassed revulsion engulfed him and he swept the skin up and flushed it down the loo. Whatever was he thinking? He'd have to go with plan B, the asparagus, and the time his wee had smelled like he'd been eating asparagus when he hadn't touched the stuff, only to be served it later that evening at a friend's house. It was as if his body knew, had made a future prediction.
Trouble was it was all anecdotal. Sceptics always threw the 'where's your evidence' accusation at such things. Well perhaps he could do the phone call thing - thinking of his mum just a few seconds before she phoned him that time. Hmm, everyone does that one though, don’t they. No, it'd have to be the asparagus.
Was it all trivial and silly, like Helena said? These synchronicities never seemed to carry any real substance or actually mean anything. It was a stupid waste of time and associating with Dave and indulging his paranormal obsessions was frankly idiotic. That's why she'd gone out for the night.
He'd lost track of the time but supposed Dave would be here any second. The doorbell rang. He flicked on the videocom and could see Dave standing there, carrying a bag. Was that another synchronicity, that he'd thought of Dave prior to him ringing the bell? He glanced at the clock. It was seven o'clock - the time they'd agreed. Not a good enough example. The sceptics wouldn’t have it.
He opened the door.
“Did you know that if you ask people to think of a number between one and one hundred most people say a number with a seven in it?”
“Hi Dave, come in.”
“I brought a bottle of vino and a board game. I thought we could sip the plonk while we talked then we could have a game of Trivial Pursuit. You’ve played it before haven’t you?”
by Derek Dohren