F3 Bad Day

            I did my best to stay calm, but my skin crawled with the energy of the day. I clutched at my pendant to Tyche through my shirt, and stayed firmly under the covers of my bed. The bed was as safe as anywhere else in the house, maybe safer.

            Maybe.

            The phone rang, and I jumped. I let it go to the machine.

F3 Bad Luck

            Though my bouts of good luck were balanced by the bad—I actually charted them on a spreadsheet to an error rate of +/- 2%—I still viewed my luck as a curse. It didn’t matter that my favorite bar had put up a plaque declaring “Don Iverson, Luckiest man in Belport,” the luck was still a curse. It was the knowing. Knowing that the other side of Fortune’s Wheel lay in my future.

F3 Coin Toss

            I walked into Sean MacFinn’s Pub, the old-fashioned brass bell announcing my presence. The patrons who recognized me raised their pints as I approached the bar.

            “Well if’n it’s Donny Iver’s Son,” Sean said.

F3 Finding a Client

            I spun in a circle with eyes closed. When my spin stopped, I started walking, still with eyes closed. Only on my third step did I open them. I was walking straight towards the wall of a building, going across the street at an angle. I fully intended to keep walking until I either hit the wall or something moved me away.