Scene: Ana’s kitchen in São Paulo. A cup of coffee is steaming on the counter, and the smell of pão de queijo fills the air. Suddenly, a spoon slips from Ana’s hand and clatters to the floor.
Ana: (gasps)
Oh no. A spoon! That means a woman is going to visit. I hope it’s not Tia Rosana—she always stays too long and critiques my curtains.
Luís: (laughing as he walks in)
Or maybe it’s just gravity, Ana. You know, the thing Newton figured out a few centuries ago?
Ana:
Luís, you laugh, but it’s true! Last month, I dropped a fork while making dinner, and guess who rang the bell five minutes later? That guy from the apartment upstairs—the one who always smells like cologne and mystery.
Luís:
Maybe he just smelled the food and decided to stop by. That’s not a sign, that’s hunger.
Ana:
You never believe in anything beyond your science. But these signs, Luís, they’ve been passed down. My avó always said, “If a knife drops, be careful—someone’s angry or a fight’s coming.” And every time she dropped one, something did happen!
Luís:
Let me guess, she expected conflict after the knife fell, so every little disagreement seemed like fate?
Ana: (narrowing eyes)
Don’t try to logic your way out of the truth.
Luís:
Ana, have you ever dropped a spoon and nobody came over?
Ana: (pauses)
…Maybe once. Or twice. But maybe they thought about coming. That still counts!
Luís:
So now you’re psychic too?
Ana:
Not psychic. Intuitive. There’s a difference.
Luís: (grinning)
Okay, okay. But let me try something. I’ll drop a knife right now. If there’s a fight within the next hour, you win. But if not, you owe me dinner.
Ana:
That’s dangerous! Don’t provoke the spirits!
Luís: (mock serious)
Fine, I’ll drop it gently. [He lightly sets a knife on the floor.] Boom. The knife hath fallen.
Ana: (sighs)
Now I’m anxious.
Luís:
Ana, here’s the thing: when something happens after an event—like dropping silverware—we’re wired to make connections. But correlation isn’t causation. If I sneeze and then it rains, I didn’t summon the clouds.
Ana:
But what about all the times it does match? Why does it line up so often?
Luís:
It feels like it matches because we remember the hits and forget the misses. It’s called confirmation bias. You drop a spoon and a woman visits—boom, memory saved. Drop a spoon and nobody comes—you forget.
Ana: (tilting head)
You always have a fancy name for everything.
Luís:
That’s because fancy names make boring truths sound cool.
Ana: (smiling)
Alright, Mr. Rational. But if my cousin Marina shows up in the next hour, I’m calling a priest.
Luís: (laughing)
Deal. But if she doesn’t, you’re cooking me feijoada this weekend.
Ana:
Fine. But I’m still going to warn you if I drop a knife again. Just in case.
Luís:
And I’ll keep a helmet in my backpack. Just in case.
(They both laugh and sip their coffee, the playful tension melting into comfort and familiarity.)
Science Vs Superstition 
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