Fate as a supervillain.
Every Sunday morning, I run a six-mile loop into Old Town, down to the Potomac River and back.
The snow and ice from the previous weekend’s storm had melted, and I was anxious to run on dry sidewalks again. I slipped on my running shoes, inserted my earbuds, and strided out the door.
By mile two, I was deep into my audiobook and cruising along the wide, brick sidewalk that lined a quiet side street when Fate appeared, this time in the form of a 3 x 3 foot sheet of thick ice, hurtling down to earth from four stories above.
The plate of ice exploded just a few inches from my left foot, sending ice chunks flying. Startled, I screamed and looked for a perpetrator. I scanned the closest building’s roof hoping to catch some teenage prankster in the act, arm cocked, ice disc in hand, but no human figure appeared.
There was one other person on the block, one witness, a guy waiting for his bus. I turned my gaze from the roofline to him. He was studying my reaction to the frozen shards. I jutted my face forward and raised my eyebrows high as if to communicate: Did you just see that ice almost hit my head? Did you? I almost died right here! He didn’t react to my facial gestures or my telepathic communication. With disinterest, he returned his attention from me back to the street.
I stood on the sidewalk a little longer, looking up, hoping to find the source of the ice, but found none. I was truly baffled.
How did a mini glacier appear out of thin air, fall from the sky, and just miss the top of my head by mere inches?
It had to be Fate!
Fate as a supervillain. His current superpower of choice, hydrokinetic constructs: The power to create weapons out of ice.
Four miles remained between me and the safety of my home. Armed with my new hypothesis of Fate’s potential superpowers, I launched back into my run with caution and an eye toward the sky, hoping to stay one step (or at least six inches) ahead of whatever Fate threw my way.