Why?

Synchronicity. There are those that say it is no accident, but it is hard to believe that in a rational world.

My father wrote articles about different people in the science departments of Illinois schools. People were eager to be his next topic until three of them, in a row, died shortly after their article was published. Whatever the reason for it, he stopped writing the articles.

My sister and I used to drive around to different post offices mailing letters so they would have different post marks on them. I had just learned to drive and the freedom was intoxicating. Three of those post offices burned down within days of us going there. Why three again? I have no idea.

I write a story one hot summer night and the next day hear that a very similar situation actually occurred.

Are all these simple coincidences? Almost definitely and yet there is that nagging little doubt. What draws people to do what they do, go where they go, write what they write?

I only know that last night I couldn’t get a picture out of my head and so I began to write a story about it. Not something too unusual for me. At least not until today.