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It stood out amongst the crowd. Against a contrasting blond backdrop, it looked ready for flight. The owner was full of vibrance and chatted animatedly with her boyfriend.

During the half hour journey, I couldnt help peeking and sneaking occasional glances at the shiny green butterfly. As the bus arrived at the terminal, the couple alighted and I gradually lost sight of it.

Four and a half hour later, I saw it again. My reunion with the green butterfly was a pleasant surprise and I wondered how coincidental the meeting was. From the moment of separation , the walk home to the tube ride to Piccadilly Circles to the inspiring performance at Soho right down to a pint at the pub and to the exact moment of decision to head home and subsequently the selected carriage – is that what humans coin as fate? Or is that just a series of calculated probability which happens on just one of those ordinary days in our lives? A little indicator to illustrate that as long as there exists the smallest probability – the most impossible thing can happen anytime on any day? As long as there is life, there is hope.

The green butterfly just flew by.

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