When we were in a noodle bar the other day, alongside the bill, we were presented with a pair of fortune cookies. For some reason, C. gets excited about such things, and she eagerly ripped open her cookie and pulled out the message. It said something like, "you will receive some good news next Tuesday". The usual carefully non-specific, quasi-mystical nonsense, I thought. I would have expected nothing less. After all, what's the point of fortune cookies? They're not even especially nice biscuits. Even so, C seemed a touch disappointed and down in the mouth, as if she was somehow expecting more from her fortune. Her disappointment was quickly replaced by an eagerness to see what my fortune had in store for me. She was so keen, in fact, that I had to move fairly quickly to stop her taking my cookie and opening it for herself.
My fortune read: "Because of your melodic nature, the moonlight never misses an appointment".
For some unknown reason, this seemed to enrage C. How could it be fair that her fortune was so mundane and mine was so poetic? Frankly, I couldn't see what her problem was and I was quietly impressed by my fortune. How the cookie could possibly know about my melodic nature...?
Perhaps I've misjudged the whole thing?
14 hours ago