If she had gotten a nickle every time she had told someone she was cursed when it came to choose between two very simple options, she would have been rich beyond reason by now.

People probably thought she was just trying to be interesting.

As a matter of facts, Murphy and his annoying ”law” had always been a nightmare, for as far back as she could remember. Black or white, evens or odds, head or tail. It didn’t matter, she always made the wrong choice.

Always.

It had become a running gag. And not a funny one for her.

Walking back home, she wasn’t thinking about all of this. Far from it. She was just done with her day of hard work, and hoping for a nice dinner in front of her favorite series on Netflix… Maybe a long warm bath, or a shower, depending on how tired she would be by then.

And a glass of Pinot Noir.

Oh, yes… She had a good bottle waiting, and she didn’t even need nice company to open it up. Drinking alone didn’t count, did it?

Walking in the dark, she kept a good pace, as she always did.

When she had chosen the late evening shift over the more conventional one, she had been a little worried. But it had meant less people in the subway on her way home, and just for that, she felt good about her choice.

But now lying on the floor, in a pool of her own blood, she tried to call for help. Her lungs burnt, and nothing louder than a whisper could leave her lips. At the bottom of the two different staircases, she had taken a minute to choose.

And one last time, she had made the wrong choice.

I told you so…

Via Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge