She did not believe in heaven, hell, karma, or fate, or that things happen for a reason. She believed even less in the deities and spirit worlds that were necessary preconditions for these things. In fact, she had so little patience any more for magical thinking of any stripe that she turned the stinkeye on fellow World Cup watchers who moaned oh no don't jinx us to announcers trumpeting a team's success before the final whistle.
But then the summer of strife hit her in the chops, and gut, and kneecaps for good measure, and she remembered why people fall back on supernatural explanations for crap. It was the only narrative that would allow her to handle shit without completely falling apart.
How much longer, she wondered, until the bill is stamped Paid in Full? I mean, shouldn't it have been six months ago? How far back does the fucking karmic clock that I do not even believe in, except for the fact that it is the sole thing keeping me sane, rewind?
The calendar kept flipping, far too slowly for her tastes but resolutely nonetheless. Fall beckoned. She wondered if this meant it was going to get better or worse.