It is strange how things repeat themselves, especially when you’re so certain that they won’t.
Like when you go to the fish and chip shop on a Monday night and find it closed.
‘We’ll remember next time,’ you say to each other, thinking you’ll never forget standing out in the cold, peering through the windows into the empty displays that usually house fresh fish. Your stomach growls as if in confirmation: it is as angry as your brain at your stupidity.
Because this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.
Six months ago, you found yourself outside the fish and chip shop on a Monday. It was late, and you were hungry. ‘We’ll remember next time,’ you all said, ‘for sure.’
But you didn’t.