Two people met because of a mistake.
On a rainy evening, Amina rushed onto the nearly empty bus, headphones on, exhausted from work. She dropped into the first free seat without looking. A few seconds later, someone tapped her shoulder.
“You’re sitting on my sketchbook,” the person said.
She lifted herself quickly. The sketchbook lay crushed under her. The owner—Michael—picked it up gently, checking the pages like it was a fragile memory. She apologized. He smiled.