If you were crossing the road and saw a black cat passing, you may possibly get hit by a car, or a mail boy or the sky could rain in summer, possibly snow. Those were theories, none of them were true. It was like karma; it only happens to you if you believed in them. Myths, Cecilia called them. The guy looked frozen. This is silly, she thought. He could not be that affected by the cat. Cecilia had been working here for a year and she wasn’t struck by lightning, she was alive, of course, nobody chose the cat so this is why she was the oldest pet in the store.
Basma Salem, The Art Of Black
bad-luck, black-cat, humor, novel