[Setting: A cozy apartment in Berlin. The kitchen table is cluttered with coffee cups, biscuits, and… shards of a broken mirror wrapped in a towel.]
Lena:
(peering into the towel like it’s a cursed object)
Max, I told you not to move it! You’ve touched the shards! That’s seven years for you and maybe half for me because we’re in the same room!
Max:
(laughing)
Lena, you act like I just summoned a demon. It’s a mirror, not a portal to hell. I tripped over your yoga mat — the real villain here, by the way.
Lena:
(seriously)
This is serious. Breaking a mirror is a bad omen. I’ve already buried the last one behind the recycling bins. I’ll bury this one too — before the bad luck spreads.
Max:
Wait, what? You buried glass in the courtyard?
Lena:
Yes. Wrapped in a white cloth. It neutralizes the bad energy. My Oma used to do it, and she lived to 98, thank you very much.
Max:
Right… and my Opa drank schnapps every morning and lived to 90 — doesn’t mean schnapps is the secret to immortality.
Lena:
You joke, but ever since I dropped that mirror in 2019, my cat ran away, I missed my train to Vienna and I sprained my ankle.
Max:
Okay, correlation doesn’t mean causation. Maybe your cat ran away because you forgot to feed it again?
Lena:
(glaring)
I was distracted. The mirror set off the chaos.
Max:
Lena, mirrors don’t cause misfortune. That belief goes back to Roman times when mirrors were rare and expensive — people freaked out if one broke. And the “seven years” bit? That’s how long they believed the soul took to regenerate.
Lena:
See? That proves it’s ancient wisdom.
Max:
Or ancient nonsense. Same people thought sneezing expelled demons.
Lena:
(smirking)
I still say “bless you.” Want to argue that next?
Max:
Touché. But seriously, what’s more likely: a piece of reflective glass controls your fate, or… life just happens and sometimes sucks?
Lena:
But it helps to have rituals. Like a psychological safety net. I buried my last mirror and nothing else bad happened for a while.
Max:
That’s because you believed you stopped the bad luck. It’s a placebo. Like wearing “lucky socks” before exams. If it comforts you, fine. Just don’t tell me I’m cursed for touching glass.
Lena:
(smiles)
Too late. You’ve got 6.5 years left.
Max:
Great. Can I at least shorten it by donating blood or something?
Lena:
Maybe. Or… you could bury it with me.
Max:
You want me to co-bury a mirror behind the recycling bins? That’s the most Berlin thing I’ve heard today.
Lena:
Come on. Just this once. It’ll be our little ritual. A “rational-superstitious solidarity pact.”
Max:
(sighs, mock solemn)
Fine. But only if we wear hazmat gloves and play spooky music while we do it.
Lena:
Deal. And afterwards, I’ll make us Apfelstrudel. That always brings good luck.
Max:
Now that’s a superstition I can get behind.
Science Vs Superstition 
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