SHORT STORY
Meet-Cutes by Anonymous
Coincidence was, by name, a very carefree spirit, in that she did not often question why she was doing something, she just did it—and suffered the repercussions at a later date. Hence, she did not think twice about the potential butterfly effect entering ‘The Luggage Room’ bar in London on that particular Thursday afternoon would have.
Many factors made this spot a suitable excursion for Coincidence, such as her finding the 1920s décor rather charming, reminding her of wilder yet more simple times. In addition, the location of The Luggage Room happened to be conveniently situated where her previous employment ended, therefore the chances of her stumbling upon the old favourite was admittedly rather likely.
It was with this subconscious logic that she made her way inside the sombre and sophisticated space. Deep, treacle-like jazz perfumed the hubbub filled bar in a thick vapour, seducing the Thursday afternoon residents into somewhat romantic spirits. This was the atmosphere Coincidence adored; she loved humans’ tendency to feel as though anything was possible in these sorts of environments. She relished in their romanticism of chance.
This reverie sadly came to a premature end when a familiar face stuck out in the crowd of euphoric humans like a sore thumb. He was stooped over the bar, nursing a syrup-coloured liquid in a beautifully cut crystal glass. Dressed for the theme, he donned a midnight blue three-piece suit, and a plum bow tie. A golden pocket watch chain winked in the lowlight of the overhead chandelier, complimenting his disarming yellow eyes, which seemed to stare straight into space.
She smiled a toothy grin, for it was not often she ran into co-workers on her days off like this. Without a second thought, she started towards him, her gold ringlets bouncing around her round face as she skipped. Snapping out of his thoughtful trance, his features flashed in recognition upon noticing her advance, provoking his own restrained smile.
“Fancy seeing you here!” beamed Coincidence.
“Please,” smirked Fate, “this was meant to be.”
Coincidence laughed, her blue eyes alight with friendly excitement. “How have you been?” she inquired before cutting him off, “I was sorry to hear about your hiccup in Thailand last month, so unlucky.”
Fate’s brow furrowed at this; his mouth tugged into a frown. Coincidence worried whether she had struck a chord, when he said, “It wasn’t simply luck. The—what was it that you called it? Ah yes, a hiccup—was completely down to a routine time-zone error which my, now redundant, assistant had not accounted for. Besides, even with this completely out of the ordinary ‘hiccup’, I am still at the top of matches made this millennia.”
Coincidence was nodding along, only half listening, as she had quite forgotten how defensive Fate was when it came to his ranking. She held a safe spot at number twelve, not amazing yet not terrible, meaning she could pretty much relax. The word relax was, evidently, foreign to Fate.
“And you never miss an opportunity to remind us, do you, Fate?” She teased, raising a singular arched brow. “Have you ever divined that maybe, just maybe, your methods are too complex?”
“Too complex?” he barked. “They are nothing of the sort! Besides, what do you know anyway? You’ve never even been in the top ten!” He polished off the remainder of the amber liquid.
Coincidence was taken aback momentarily before replying with indignation, “That is completely out of personal choice! If I wanted to be at the top I would be,” she continued over Fates guffaws, “and after observing how a high ranking has contributed to your peevish and, frankly, entitled manner, well I dare say I pity you.”
She then proceeded to turn on her worn trainer heel with the intention of storming out of the bar but was prevented from doing so by a firm yet well-meaning hold on her baby blue jumper hood. “Wait,” exasperated Fate, “I apologise.” He wore an abashed expression with a hint of self reprimand when Coincidence turned to face him once more.
“I’m sorry that I have offended you,” he claimed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I will be sure to be more considerate in future. Will you please forgive me?” His yellow eyes seemed sincere, and purely out of the lack of the capacity to hold grudges, Coincidence swiftly yielded. After catching up on other things momentarily, conversation drifted back to something Coincidence had said earlier.
“What did you mean when you said you could be the highest ranking if you wanted to be?” inquired Fate, swirling yet another glass of amber substance.
Coincidence wrinkled her nose whilst poking ice cubes in the recesses of her glass of pink Fanta. “Just that, without meaning to come off as bragging, my methods of matching have a 100% success rate,” she shrugged.
“Successful maybe, but they are hardly efficient,” declared Fate. “One match takes you months to stabilise!”
“Well what’s the rush?” questioned Coincidence defensively, “I just believe that real love takes time. And I refuse to move things on prematurely for my own personal gain in rank, like some people!”
Fate shook his head at the floor with a bemused smile, causing some unruly brown curls to un-peel themselves from his gelled head.
“I think you’re wrong,” he began, ”if the match is right then why waste time with waiting for things happen on their own?”
Coincidence sighed and rubbed her eyes. Perhaps they were always going to disagree. It was like the tortoise and the hare story. She began to mutter polite pleasantries that it was getting late and she should get going when Fate’s eyes gleamed with a rejuvenated enthusiasm.
“I have just had the best idea anyone will ever have. Ever.” He swayed slightly as he declared this, to which Coincidence had no choice but to smile a knowing smile.
“Okay Fate, maybe we should get you home.” She reached for his arm to support him, only for him to pounce away with the surprising grace of a ballet dancer.
“Absolutely not!” he waved his arms about to emphasise his words, sort of like one of those inflatables outside car dealerships. “You must hear my idea first!” He took her silence as a cue to continue, “Let us test it. Pick anyone; anyone in this bar. And we will both try to get them matched by the end of the night. It’ll be fun, say yes!” He smiled expectantly, cocking his head to the side so as to stoop down to her height.
She mulled the situation over for less than a second, for it did sound fun, and she would so like to prove that humans were more than capable of organic encounters with their predetermined soulmates. “Fine,” she relented to his delight, “but I get to choose who we match.” He nodded to her terms, and she began to examine the room.
The humans all seemed to blur into one, as they chattered and giggled and bumbled about the ceramic tiled floor. Apart from one, one that seemed to jump out at Coincidence. A young man, of maybe nineteen, with curly red hair and thick black square glasses. He wore a yellow fleece jumper and blue jeans. He was definitely the one. After making her selection known to her newly declared rival, they noticed him exiting the bar.
After trampling over each other to be the first to direct him, they followed him down the pavement in hot pursuit. The evening sun bathed the London streets in a warm buttery haze, English summer drawing out the days without anyone’s objection. They agreed Fate would go first, largely due to the fact that he wanted to, and Coincidence did not care enough to argue. As he began to approach the yellow man to whisper in his ear a suggestion, he spun around to face them with a certainty that both shocked and perplexed the pair.
Fate and Coincidence came to an abrupt halt, shoulder to shoulder, somewhat mortified. The man was staring at them—which was impossible—with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “Why are you following me?” he inquired politely. His voice sounded young and innocent, which only added to the duos complete bewilderment. It was Coincidence who broke their mutual silence, “A-are you, speaking? To us?” she gestured between herself her jelly-legged companion.
“Yes of course, who else would I be speaking to?” His eyes flitted between them, very clearly observing the alleged celestial beings as materialised matter.
Fate’s eyes widened in alarm, “he can see us,” he whispered, very indiscreetly, to Coincidence. She lightly slapped his arm and turned back to the man, who appeared not to have heard Fate, by some miracle.
“Um, yes, sir, we are following you a little. Sorry.” She smiled charismatically, “It’s just, we were playing a game, and—”
Many factors made this spot a suitable excursion for Coincidence, such as her finding the 1920s décor rather charming, reminding her of wilder yet more simple times. In addition, the location of The Luggage Room happened to be conveniently situated where her previous employment ended, therefore the chances of her stumbling upon the old favourite was admittedly rather likely.
It was with this subconscious logic that she made her way inside the sombre and sophisticated space. Deep, treacle-like jazz perfumed the hubbub filled bar in a thick vapour, seducing the Thursday afternoon residents into somewhat romantic spirits. This was the atmosphere Coincidence adored; she loved humans’ tendency to feel as though anything was possible in these sorts of environments. She relished in their romanticism of chance.
This reverie sadly came to a premature end when a familiar face stuck out in the crowd of euphoric humans like a sore thumb. He was stooped over the bar, nursing a syrup-coloured liquid in a beautifully cut crystal glass. Dressed for the theme, he donned a midnight blue three-piece suit, and a plum bow tie. A golden pocket watch chain winked in the lowlight of the overhead chandelier, complimenting his disarming yellow eyes, which seemed to stare straight into space.
She smiled a toothy grin, for it was not often she ran into co-workers on her days off like this. Without a second thought, she started towards him, her gold ringlets bouncing around her round face as she skipped. Snapping out of his thoughtful trance, his features flashed in recognition upon noticing her advance, provoking his own restrained smile.
“Fancy seeing you here!” beamed Coincidence.
“Please,” smirked Fate, “this was meant to be.”
Coincidence laughed, her blue eyes alight with friendly excitement. “How have you been?” she inquired before cutting him off, “I was sorry to hear about your hiccup in Thailand last month, so unlucky.”
Fate’s brow furrowed at this; his mouth tugged into a frown. Coincidence worried whether she had struck a chord, when he said, “It wasn’t simply luck. The—what was it that you called it? Ah yes, a hiccup—was completely down to a routine time-zone error which my, now redundant, assistant had not accounted for. Besides, even with this completely out of the ordinary ‘hiccup’, I am still at the top of matches made this millennia.”
Coincidence was nodding along, only half listening, as she had quite forgotten how defensive Fate was when it came to his ranking. She held a safe spot at number twelve, not amazing yet not terrible, meaning she could pretty much relax. The word relax was, evidently, foreign to Fate.
“And you never miss an opportunity to remind us, do you, Fate?” She teased, raising a singular arched brow. “Have you ever divined that maybe, just maybe, your methods are too complex?”
“Too complex?” he barked. “They are nothing of the sort! Besides, what do you know anyway? You’ve never even been in the top ten!” He polished off the remainder of the amber liquid.
Coincidence was taken aback momentarily before replying with indignation, “That is completely out of personal choice! If I wanted to be at the top I would be,” she continued over Fates guffaws, “and after observing how a high ranking has contributed to your peevish and, frankly, entitled manner, well I dare say I pity you.”
She then proceeded to turn on her worn trainer heel with the intention of storming out of the bar but was prevented from doing so by a firm yet well-meaning hold on her baby blue jumper hood. “Wait,” exasperated Fate, “I apologise.” He wore an abashed expression with a hint of self reprimand when Coincidence turned to face him once more.
“I’m sorry that I have offended you,” he claimed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I will be sure to be more considerate in future. Will you please forgive me?” His yellow eyes seemed sincere, and purely out of the lack of the capacity to hold grudges, Coincidence swiftly yielded. After catching up on other things momentarily, conversation drifted back to something Coincidence had said earlier.
“What did you mean when you said you could be the highest ranking if you wanted to be?” inquired Fate, swirling yet another glass of amber substance.
Coincidence wrinkled her nose whilst poking ice cubes in the recesses of her glass of pink Fanta. “Just that, without meaning to come off as bragging, my methods of matching have a 100% success rate,” she shrugged.
“Successful maybe, but they are hardly efficient,” declared Fate. “One match takes you months to stabilise!”
“Well what’s the rush?” questioned Coincidence defensively, “I just believe that real love takes time. And I refuse to move things on prematurely for my own personal gain in rank, like some people!”
Fate shook his head at the floor with a bemused smile, causing some unruly brown curls to un-peel themselves from his gelled head.
“I think you’re wrong,” he began, ”if the match is right then why waste time with waiting for things happen on their own?”
Coincidence sighed and rubbed her eyes. Perhaps they were always going to disagree. It was like the tortoise and the hare story. She began to mutter polite pleasantries that it was getting late and she should get going when Fate’s eyes gleamed with a rejuvenated enthusiasm.
“I have just had the best idea anyone will ever have. Ever.” He swayed slightly as he declared this, to which Coincidence had no choice but to smile a knowing smile.
“Okay Fate, maybe we should get you home.” She reached for his arm to support him, only for him to pounce away with the surprising grace of a ballet dancer.
“Absolutely not!” he waved his arms about to emphasise his words, sort of like one of those inflatables outside car dealerships. “You must hear my idea first!” He took her silence as a cue to continue, “Let us test it. Pick anyone; anyone in this bar. And we will both try to get them matched by the end of the night. It’ll be fun, say yes!” He smiled expectantly, cocking his head to the side so as to stoop down to her height.
She mulled the situation over for less than a second, for it did sound fun, and she would so like to prove that humans were more than capable of organic encounters with their predetermined soulmates. “Fine,” she relented to his delight, “but I get to choose who we match.” He nodded to her terms, and she began to examine the room.
The humans all seemed to blur into one, as they chattered and giggled and bumbled about the ceramic tiled floor. Apart from one, one that seemed to jump out at Coincidence. A young man, of maybe nineteen, with curly red hair and thick black square glasses. He wore a yellow fleece jumper and blue jeans. He was definitely the one. After making her selection known to her newly declared rival, they noticed him exiting the bar.
After trampling over each other to be the first to direct him, they followed him down the pavement in hot pursuit. The evening sun bathed the London streets in a warm buttery haze, English summer drawing out the days without anyone’s objection. They agreed Fate would go first, largely due to the fact that he wanted to, and Coincidence did not care enough to argue. As he began to approach the yellow man to whisper in his ear a suggestion, he spun around to face them with a certainty that both shocked and perplexed the pair.
Fate and Coincidence came to an abrupt halt, shoulder to shoulder, somewhat mortified. The man was staring at them—which was impossible—with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “Why are you following me?” he inquired politely. His voice sounded young and innocent, which only added to the duos complete bewilderment. It was Coincidence who broke their mutual silence, “A-are you, speaking? To us?” she gestured between herself her jelly-legged companion.
“Yes of course, who else would I be speaking to?” His eyes flitted between them, very clearly observing the alleged celestial beings as materialised matter.
Fate’s eyes widened in alarm, “he can see us,” he whispered, very indiscreetly, to Coincidence. She lightly slapped his arm and turned back to the man, who appeared not to have heard Fate, by some miracle.
“Um, yes, sir, we are following you a little. Sorry.” She smiled charismatically, “It’s just, we were playing a game, and—”
The man interrupted, “A game? What kind?”
Fate answered, “Oh you’d love it, its quite brilliant actually, so basically, my friend”—he placed his hand on Coincidence’s shoulder as he said this, which she presently flicked off with her thumb and index finger—“and I choose a person, in this case, you, and we try and find their true love!” Coincidence smacked her forehead in annoyance. The man looked truly perplexed. The game was over. Probably for the best. Fate was saying too much.
Fate answered, “Oh you’d love it, its quite brilliant actually, so basically, my friend”—he placed his hand on Coincidence’s shoulder as he said this, which she presently flicked off with her thumb and index finger—“and I choose a person, in this case, you, and we try and find their true love!” Coincidence smacked her forehead in annoyance. The man looked truly perplexed. The game was over. Probably for the best. Fate was saying too much.
“Okay then, I don’t mind,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders.
“Excellent!” clapped Fate, “Good show! I’m Fate and this is the lovely and unnaturally short Coincidence,” he parted his hands to frame her as he introduced her to the man, as though she was on a bizarre game show hosted by Paddy McGuinness. This earned him another light slap on the arm. The man seemed oddly at ease with their peculiar names, and simply stated that it was nice to meet them.
Fate, as it was his turn first, directed them all to the London Eye. Coincidence rolled her eyes at this, as it was so Fate. He just couldn’t help himself. He was a sucker for a cheesy meet-cute. However, Fate claimed multiple times that it ‘didn’t feel right yet’ for them to get into the queue, so they had to wait forty-five minutes, in which the man preoccupied himself with buying bread from the nearby Tesco’s and feeding the pigeons, which he individually named all of. When the time finally came for them to board the big wheel, the man didn’t seem too bothered by Fate’s persistent directions to bump into a lanky black-haired man standing alone in the pod. This irritated Fate greatly, as no one ever in his long and illustrious career had refused to follow his orders before. Although, usually, humans couldn’t see him whilst he was telling them what to do, which obviously made it a lot easier, because if one hears a voice in their ear telling them to, for example, take a particular seat on the train, or hold the door open just a second longer, they will assume it is their own subconscious. The fact that the man could see Fate telling him what to do was not helping the ‘free will’ aspect of it all.
After Fate's failed attempt at uniting the man with his potential true love, they fruitlessly vacated the pod. Fate was sulking three steps behind Coincidence and the man for the better half of an hour, all the while Coincidence blindly lead them through countless winding roads and lanes. The man asked multiple times where they were going, only to sort of tune out when she answered. Both Fate and Coincidence noticed he seemed very much disinterested in the whole ordeal, yet similarly they both discarded this observation on account of their shared competitive natures.
Eventually they arrived at the summit of primrose hill, where only the man took the time to appreciate the sprawling view of the city skyline with a new-found devotion. Meanwhile, Fate grumbled to himself, presumably dissecting the impossibility of his unsuccessful match.
No sooner had the man stooped down to tie his shoelace did a woman with baby pink hair and a smattering of freckles kick a football right next to where he crouched. The man seemed to take in the football, and then the woman, only to continue in his shoe tying occupation. Coincidence was spellbound, to say the least. The pink haired woman retrieved her ball without a second glace at the man, much to Coincidence's horror. The setup was perfect, completely organic, and natural. They walked around London for ages, randomly stopped in the park, and the perfect woman just happened to kick her ball exactly where the man was sitting? Coincidence could not have asked for a better setting. So what was the man’s problem?
Well, she was not long left wondering. Fate, fully sobered now from the evening air, was puzzling intently over the man’s pale face. He clicked his fingers and exclaimed in agitation, “I know you! You’re no human, you’re Fickle!”
The man looked up in surprise and laughed lightly, revealing pointy yet small canines and crinkles in the corners of his pearlescent eyes. “Well, yes. I am. It took you a while to notice, didn’t it?”
Coincidence was beside herself in excitement and remorse, “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, “What are the chances of all of us being in the same bar at the same time? How funny! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognise you! I suppose I let my competitive side get the best of me.”
“No, it is not funny!” snapped Fate. “This was a complete waste of my time, and it didn’t prove anything. We still do not know whose matching method is more effective. Why didn’t you tell us who you were, Fickle?”
Fickle, who was sat with his legs crossed on the grass, looked down and began pulling the blades from the earth. “I suppose,” he began, “it was because you didn’t know who I was straight away. I know I’m last on the rankings, but I still thought my own co-workers would know my name.”
Coincidence cupped her hands over her mouth and began spouting a string of rapid apologies and grievances, which Fickle simply laughed and breezily dismissed, “I hold nothing over either of you. I was cross at first, I admit, but now I’m just tired. I think I’ll go home now.” He stood up and began towards the park gates, but became entranced by a puppy being taken on its first walk long before he reached them.
“What a strange man,” remarked Fate, only to receive another light slap to the arm.
“He’s not strange. This just goes to show, doesn’t it?” Coincidence said.
“What?” inquired Fate, “what does it go to show?”
She appeared pensive as she absorbed the multicoloured and sparkling silhouette of the city. Fickle had dissolved into shadow by now. The girl with the pink hair was being traced by Luck. The puppy chewed through his lead and punctured her football, much to the dismay of its owner, who insisted on buying her a new one. Coincidence, still with one foot in her reverie, told Fate, “That we matter to people. All of us. No matter our efficiency, we matter.”
“Excellent!” clapped Fate, “Good show! I’m Fate and this is the lovely and unnaturally short Coincidence,” he parted his hands to frame her as he introduced her to the man, as though she was on a bizarre game show hosted by Paddy McGuinness. This earned him another light slap on the arm. The man seemed oddly at ease with their peculiar names, and simply stated that it was nice to meet them.
Fate, as it was his turn first, directed them all to the London Eye. Coincidence rolled her eyes at this, as it was so Fate. He just couldn’t help himself. He was a sucker for a cheesy meet-cute. However, Fate claimed multiple times that it ‘didn’t feel right yet’ for them to get into the queue, so they had to wait forty-five minutes, in which the man preoccupied himself with buying bread from the nearby Tesco’s and feeding the pigeons, which he individually named all of. When the time finally came for them to board the big wheel, the man didn’t seem too bothered by Fate’s persistent directions to bump into a lanky black-haired man standing alone in the pod. This irritated Fate greatly, as no one ever in his long and illustrious career had refused to follow his orders before. Although, usually, humans couldn’t see him whilst he was telling them what to do, which obviously made it a lot easier, because if one hears a voice in their ear telling them to, for example, take a particular seat on the train, or hold the door open just a second longer, they will assume it is their own subconscious. The fact that the man could see Fate telling him what to do was not helping the ‘free will’ aspect of it all.
After Fate's failed attempt at uniting the man with his potential true love, they fruitlessly vacated the pod. Fate was sulking three steps behind Coincidence and the man for the better half of an hour, all the while Coincidence blindly lead them through countless winding roads and lanes. The man asked multiple times where they were going, only to sort of tune out when she answered. Both Fate and Coincidence noticed he seemed very much disinterested in the whole ordeal, yet similarly they both discarded this observation on account of their shared competitive natures.
Eventually they arrived at the summit of primrose hill, where only the man took the time to appreciate the sprawling view of the city skyline with a new-found devotion. Meanwhile, Fate grumbled to himself, presumably dissecting the impossibility of his unsuccessful match.
No sooner had the man stooped down to tie his shoelace did a woman with baby pink hair and a smattering of freckles kick a football right next to where he crouched. The man seemed to take in the football, and then the woman, only to continue in his shoe tying occupation. Coincidence was spellbound, to say the least. The pink haired woman retrieved her ball without a second glace at the man, much to Coincidence's horror. The setup was perfect, completely organic, and natural. They walked around London for ages, randomly stopped in the park, and the perfect woman just happened to kick her ball exactly where the man was sitting? Coincidence could not have asked for a better setting. So what was the man’s problem?
Well, she was not long left wondering. Fate, fully sobered now from the evening air, was puzzling intently over the man’s pale face. He clicked his fingers and exclaimed in agitation, “I know you! You’re no human, you’re Fickle!”
The man looked up in surprise and laughed lightly, revealing pointy yet small canines and crinkles in the corners of his pearlescent eyes. “Well, yes. I am. It took you a while to notice, didn’t it?”
Coincidence was beside herself in excitement and remorse, “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, “What are the chances of all of us being in the same bar at the same time? How funny! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognise you! I suppose I let my competitive side get the best of me.”
“No, it is not funny!” snapped Fate. “This was a complete waste of my time, and it didn’t prove anything. We still do not know whose matching method is more effective. Why didn’t you tell us who you were, Fickle?”
Fickle, who was sat with his legs crossed on the grass, looked down and began pulling the blades from the earth. “I suppose,” he began, “it was because you didn’t know who I was straight away. I know I’m last on the rankings, but I still thought my own co-workers would know my name.”
Coincidence cupped her hands over her mouth and began spouting a string of rapid apologies and grievances, which Fickle simply laughed and breezily dismissed, “I hold nothing over either of you. I was cross at first, I admit, but now I’m just tired. I think I’ll go home now.” He stood up and began towards the park gates, but became entranced by a puppy being taken on its first walk long before he reached them.
“What a strange man,” remarked Fate, only to receive another light slap to the arm.
“He’s not strange. This just goes to show, doesn’t it?” Coincidence said.
“What?” inquired Fate, “what does it go to show?”
She appeared pensive as she absorbed the multicoloured and sparkling silhouette of the city. Fickle had dissolved into shadow by now. The girl with the pink hair was being traced by Luck. The puppy chewed through his lead and punctured her football, much to the dismay of its owner, who insisted on buying her a new one. Coincidence, still with one foot in her reverie, told Fate, “That we matter to people. All of us. No matter our efficiency, we matter.”