Setting: A sunny Saturday afternoon in a neighborhood park in New Jersey. Two longtime friends, Jake (the rational thinker) and Maya (the superstitious believer), are walking their dogs and sipping iced coffee.
Maya: (excitedly bends down and picks something up) Oh my god, Jake! Look! A four-leaf clover! This is a sign—something amazing is going to happen today!
Jake: (laughs) Maya, you do realize that’s just a rare genetic mutation in a plant, right? Not a telegram from the universe.
Maya: You always say that. But last time I found one, I got that job interview I wasn’t even expecting. Coincidence? I think not.
Jake: Oh please, that interview was already scheduled before your magical botany moment. Unless the clover secretly logged into your email and replied for you?
Maya: Maybe it boosted my energy! Like, positive vibes attract good things. It’s like… clover karma.
Jake: That’s not how probability works. If anything, the odds of finding a four-leaf clover are about 1 in 5,000. You just spend a lot of time lying in grass like an unpaid lawn inspector.
Maya: You say that like it’s a bad thing. Nature’s healing. And four-leaf clovers do bring luck. The Irish believed it, and they’re not exactly new to the idea of luck and magic.
Jake: Sure, but believing something historically doesn’t make it true. People used to think the earth was flat too. Look how that turned out.
Maya: You’re comparing my lucky clover to medieval geography?
Jake: I’m just saying, your brain is great at finding patterns—even when they don’t exist. It’s called apophenia. It’s why people see Jesus in a piece of toast.
Maya: Fine, Mr. Science. But riddle me this: Every time I don’t carry my lucky clover, I get stuck in traffic. Every. Time.
Jake: Maya, you live in New Jersey. That’s not superstition. That’s just Route 9 at 5 p.m.
Maya: Still. I’d rather carry a clover than rely on your “data.” My clover’s never lied to me.
Jake: But that’s like giving your clover credit for everything good and ignoring the bad stuff. It’s classic confirmation bias. Do you remember the time you spilled hot coffee on your laptop—while carrying your “lucky” clover?
Maya: I remember that. But maybe that was meant to happen. Like, a sign I needed to spend less time online. Boom—spiritual growth.
Jake: Or maybe the sign was: “Don’t walk and text near pigeons.” One of them dive-bombed you, remember?
Maya: (laughs) Okay, that was a little cursed.
Jake: Look, I’m not trying to ruin your fun. If finding a four-leaf clover makes your day better, go for it. But just don’t base life decisions on chlorophyll mutations.
Maya: Deal. As long as you admit that not everything in life can be explained by logic. Some things are just… felt.
Jake: Fair enough. But when you win the lottery with that clover, just promise me you’ll donate your brain to science and take me to Hawaii.
Maya: Deal! And if I lose, I’ll blame it on you and your rational energy.
Jake: That’s fair. But I’m bringing a three-leaf clover just to mess with fate.
[They both laugh, dogs barking in agreement, and walk off into the park—Maya clutching her clover, Jake shaking his head with a smile.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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