Luck, I believe, is a strange thing.
It never sends a letter. It never calls ahead. One day it just shows up at your neighbor's house with flowers, chocolates, and success… and completely forgets your address.
That day, luck forgot mine.
My alarm didn't ring in the morning.
Not because it was broken—because I forgot to set it. Again.
I woke up thirty-seven minutes late, stared at the ceiling, and asked myself the same question I ask every morning:
"Is this really my life?"
The ceiling, as usual, had no answer.
I jumped out of bed, stepped on something sharp (my charger, traitor), and nearly fell while trying to put on my shirt the wrong way. When I finally checked my phone, I saw three missed calls and one message.
Boss: "If you're late again, don't bother coming."
I bothered coming.
Outside, the sky was bright and cheerful, like it was personally mocking me. The bus arrived early—of course, on the one day I was late. I ran anyway, waving like a man trying to flag down hope itself.
The bus driver looked straight at me… and drove away.
That was when I knew.
Luck had officially moved out.
At work, things didn't improve. The office printer jammed only when I used it. The coffee machine gave everyone else cappuccino and handed me hot disappointment. During a meeting, I confidently gave an answer—only to realize the question had been about something completely different.
People laughed. Politely. The dangerous kind of polite.
By lunchtime, my wallet informed me that I could afford exactly one thing: regret.
I sat on a bench outside, watching people walk past. Some were laughing, some were busy, some looked like they had everything figured out. I wondered what it felt like to be one of those people—the ones luck remembered.
That's when my phone buzzed.
A notification from a random app I didn't remember installing:
"Congratulations! You have been selected."
Selected for what?
Disappointment Part Two?
I opened it.
"Today, you will receive exactly one opportunity. Do not waste it."
I laughed. Out loud. On a public bench.
Great. Even my phone had started joking.
I put the phone away and stood up, deciding I had nothing to lose. When luck forgets your address, you either sit and complain—or you go looking for it.
I didn't know it yet, but that single notification was about to change something. Not magically. Not suddenly. But slowly… and honestly.
Because maybe luck doesn't forget people.
Maybe it waits to see who keeps walking anyway
,,,,Thank you to read this story I hope you are like this story and I create more,,,,,