There was a time when bad luck wasn’t just a feeling, it was something that followed you.
A shadow that clung to your days. A weight that turned every small thing wrong.
And when it lingered too long, people knew what had to be done.
They would take a simple wooden chair, and place it in the center of a quiet room.
There should be no witnesses. Just the chair, waiting.
Then, slowly, they would begin to walk around the chair.
One, two, three times around.
Always clockwise. Always to the right.
Because to move with the turning of the world was to set yourself back into its favor.
To fall out of step was to invite something else entirely.
And when the third circle was complete, they would stop.
And the streak would break.
The misfortune that had been following them would finally lose its path.
