She torn open the cookie : “Never let unhappiness enter your home”….
Pfffft. Right. “Scratch that,” she muttered. “Try again.” She searched the delivery bag for another cookie. Her children didn’t even bother with fortune cookies so there was a good chance there would be an extra one rattling around in the paper sack. But there wasn’t.
She read the fortune again, and felt seriously disappointed.
That had not been a fortune. It was a self-help admonition that had somehow crawled inside a stale bit of curled dough.
Possibly, though, the universe had decided to stop dispensing good luck. Which might also help explain the disappearance of surprise toys from the insides of Cracker Jack boxes.
All the delights of her childhood seemed to be vanishing at a rapid pace.