[Scene: A sunny afternoon in a quaint Spanish village. Lucía and Mateo sit on a bench near the old stone wishing well in the village plaza, sipping horchata.]
Lucía: (excitedly pulls a shiny one-euro coin from her purse)
Okay, Mateo, don’t say anything cynical. I’m making a wish.
Mateo: (laughs)
You’re really going to toss another coin in there? That well must be richer than my bank account.
Lucía:
It’s not about the money, señor ciencia. It’s the tradition. You toss a coin, make a wish, and if it hits the bottom… wish granted!
Mateo:
And if it doesn’t hit the bottom?
Lucía: (shrugs)
Then clearly, the well didn’t like the wish. Or the coin. Or maybe the angle was off. Whatever. The universe has its ways.
Mateo:
Lucía, do you hear yourself? The universe and a well are negotiating your future over a coin toss. You realize how random that sounds?
Lucía:
Oh, come on. Don’t tell me Mr. Physics never had a moment of magical thinking? Didn’t you carry around that weird red pen for good luck during final exams?
Mateo: (smirking)
Okay, yes, but that was… psychological! Comfort object. I didn’t believe the pen had a degree in astrophysics.
Lucía:
Well, this is psychological too! It gives people hope. Like my abuela always said—“Coins carry energy. Throw one with a true wish, and it finds its way to the heart of the world.”
Mateo:
Your abuela also believed that garlic scared off the evil eye and mosquitoes.
Lucía:
It does! Sort of. I haven’t been bitten since.
Mateo: (laughing)
That’s because no one wants to come within ten feet of you after a garlic bath.
Lucía:
Mateo, listen. Last year, I wished for Pablo to text me back, and I swear—three days later—he did!
Mateo:
You also messaged him “accidentally” with a photo of your dog wearing sunglasses.
Lucía:
Exactly. The well gave me the idea.
Mateo: (groans)
Lucía, correlation doesn’t equal causation! If I eat chocolate and it rains, it doesn’t mean I control the weather—though I wish I did.
Lucía:
See? Even you made a wish!
Mateo:
Touché. But here’s the thing: belief in this well working is basically confirmation bias. You remember the wishes that seem to come true and forget the ones that don’t. Didn’t you wish to win that trip to Ibiza last summer?
Lucía: (pauses)
…Okay, that one didn’t work out. But maybe I used the wrong coin. It was a five-cent. Cheap wishes go nowhere.
Mateo: (laughs)
So now there’s an economic scale to magical effectiveness?
Lucía:
Obviously. One-euro coins are premium. You wouldn’t expect a three-star wish from a one-star coin.
Mateo:
You’re hopeless. But fine, let’s say for a moment the well does something. Maybe it helps because it gives you a moment to reflect. You toss the coin, you think seriously about what you want—sort of like goal-setting, but with more splash.
Lucía:
See! Even your scientific brain is circling back to admit there’s something to it.
Mateo:
I’m saying the ritual has emotional value, not predictive power. It’s psychology, not physics. Though I admit, there’s something poetic about dropping your hopes into a dark hole.
Lucía:
Well, you drop your logic into the same hole, and let me have my fun.
Mateo: (smiling)
Deal. Just don’t expect me to fish out coins for experiments.
Lucía:
Actually, I was thinking—what if we did an experiment? You make ten rational wishes without a well, I toss ten coins into the well with mine, and we track which come true over a month.
Mateo:
Ah, a superstition vs. science challenge? You’re on. But if I win, you have to admit that the well is just a moist metaphor.
Lucía:
And if I win, you’ll toss a coin with me every Sunday.
Mateo: (mock dramatic)
May the best irrational force win.
[They both laugh as Lucía tosses the coin into the well with flair. It hits the bottom with a loud plunk. They listen.]
Lucía: (grinning)
Hear that? That’s the sound of destiny.
Mateo:
Nope. That’s the sound of your coin losing the fight against gravity.
[Fade out with them walking away, arguing about whether gravity has a sense of humor.]
Science Vs Superstition 
Tell Us What You Think