
A force with no name and no warning, released all at once and gone just as fast.
It happens without provocation — a switch flips, and suddenly he's airborne, three laps around the living room, a full-body corkscrew off the ottoman, ears back, eyes wild with a joy so total it borders on possession. There was no trigger you can point to. The Wheel turned, that's all, and something in him needed out.
Let today have a little of that ungovernable energy too — an unplanned burst, a laugh that comes from nowhere, a sudden turn you didn't see coming and don't need to explain. Not everything that moves fast needs a reason.
what may cross your path
Not every joy needs a reason. Some just need room to run.
The ottoman didn't survive. Neither, really, did your shin, which caught a full-speed pivot at the exact wrong angle. The same wild, ungovernable force that's so delightful in theory has now knocked over a lamp and left you hopping on one foot, laughing and cursing in roughly equal measure. The Wheel doesn't ask permission before it turns, and sometimes you're standing in its path.
This is fortune's less charming cousin: chaos with real, physical consequences. Nothing here was malicious. It's just the cost of loving something with that much unfiltered energy — occasionally, you get run over by your own joy.
what may cross your path
The chaos isn't against me. I just happened to be in its path.