Kismet- fate or destiny
Ex: It must have been kismet that brought the two lone travelers together to the same coffee shop, in the same small town, at the same exact time, early last Tuesday morning. She stood to the left of the ordering window. He stood to the right. They had both arrived at the counter at the same exact time, so he motioned with his arm for her to order first. This was a decision he would come to regret until he settled into his final resting place, and even a little bit after that, once his muscle tissue had completely decayed. While he prided himself on his decisiveness, never one to ask for an extra minute to ponder over the menu when it was his turn to order, she was his polar opposite. She scanned the menu up and down, left to right, diagonally up to the right from the bottom left corner, diagonally back down to the left from the top right corner, across the bottom, and then corkscrewed her head to see if the letters would somehow rearrange into different beverage offerings if she made herself dizzy. She asked the barista questions such as, “Can I smell the beans?”, “Will that loosen me up?”, and the particularly painful, “What’s in an iced coffee here?”. The barista cheerfully responded to every last inquiry. The other traveler’s patience wore thin. He tried to envision the woman back under the rock she seemingly crawled out from, except this time unable to escape, crushed to a stupid, bloody pulp beneath the boulder like Giles Cory in The Crucible. As he ran through a number of satisfying death scenarios in his head, the traveler heard the words, “Would you like to hear about some of our seasonal offerings?” voiced enticingly from behind the counter. The traveler’s death scenarios now expanded to include the barista as well. He thought of the two going for a stroll in some ancient Gaelic town and being squished to death by a falling obelisk of a coffee bean, the town’s most sacred monument. Just as the traveler was about to exit the line to search for somewhere, anywhere else to get a drink, the woman—that demonic matron of indecision— finally settled on her order.
“One iced coffee. Black. That’s all.”