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I leave the house at seven-oh-four. I catch the handle of the closing door. The light turns green as I touch the street. A perfect cycle, a rhythmic beat. I see a man in a coat of gray. He checks his watch and walks away. I find a penny, heads-side up. I drop the penny in the beggar’s cup. The radio plays a song I know. It’s just the algorithm of the show. A standard day in a standard week. Nothing specific. Nothing unique. The odds are even. The curve is bell. There is no heaven. There is no hell. Just the friction of the moving parts. Just the beating of the billion hearts. It’s just a number! It’s just a chance! It’s just the physics of the circumstance! The coin flips heads, the coin flips tails. The wind fills up the empty sails. Don’t look for ghosts in the white of the noise. Don’t look for meaning in the broken toys. It is random. I leave the house at seven-oh-four. The man in gray is at the door. He checks his watch. He looks at me. He mouths the lyrics to the symphony... That hasn't played on the radio yet. I feel the prickly heat of the sweat. I find the penny. Heads-side up. The same date stamped in the beggar's cup. 1984. 1984. I’ve seen that sequence somewhere before. On the license plate. On the receipt. On the door number across the street. The odds are shrinking. The curve is steep. I’m waking up when I should be asleep. The friction is gone. The parts align. I’m waiting for the accident to be a sign. It’s just a number! Is it chance? It’s just the physics of the circumstance! The coin flips heads... ten times in a row. The wind is blowing where I need to go. Don’t look for ghosts in the white of the noise. But the static is speaking with a human voice! I tested the theory. I walked into traffic with my eyes closed. The cars stopped. They all stopped. I didn't scratch the paint. I didn't break a bone. The universe won't let me die alone. It needs a witness. The man in gray is the man in the mirror! The signal is getting clearer and clearer! There is no chaos! There is no luck! I’m the driver of the runaway truck! The penny is a magnet! The song is a script! The fabric of reality has finally ripped! I pulled the thread and the curtain fell! I’m the architect of this personal hell! Everything rhymes! Everything fits! I’m staring into the bottomless pits! AND THE PITS ARE BLINKING! IT’S NOT RANDOM! IT’S NOT CHANCE! I AM THE DANCER! AND THIS IS THE DANCE!