Setting: A small café in St. Petersburg, Russia. It’s a drizzly afternoon. Two friends, Dima (the rational thinker) and Sasha (the superstitious one), are sitting by the window, sipping tea.
Sasha: (looking out the window, wide-eyed)
You see that, Dima? Rain! It always rains when I leave a place I’m destined to return to. It’s like the universe is bookmarking me.
Dima: (smirking)
Maybe the universe just likes a good dramatic exit. Or maybe… it’s just Russia. Where it rains a lot.
Sasha:
Oh come on! Remember when I left Sochi after that vacation in 2019? It poured exactly as I stepped onto the train. And guess what—I was back the next year.
Dima:
Sochi’s a coastal city, Sasha. Of course it rained. That’s like saying, “I sneezed before my exam and passed it, so sneezing gives me good luck.”
Sasha: (grinning)
Well… if you sneeze three times, that means someone’s thinking of you.
Dima: (laughs)
Okay, now you’re just stacking folklore. What’s next? Stepping over someone will stunt their growth?
Sasha:
Hey! My cousin Pasha’s 5’4”—we stepped over him a lot as a kid. Coincidence? I think not.
Dima: (playfully rolls eyes)
Maybe he’s just genetically petite. Listen, superstitions are fun stories we tell ourselves. They add flair to life, sure. But they don’t cause anything. Correlation isn’t causation.
Sasha:
Then explain this: I spilled salt last week, didn’t throw it over my shoulder, and the next day—boom! Lost my wallet.
Dima:
Okay, first, you’re the one who always puts his wallet in random coat pockets. Second, salt is not a cosmic curse courier. It’s sodium chloride.
Sasha: (sipping tea with flair)
You say “sodium chloride,” I say “gateway to misfortune.”
Dima:
You know, this rain-return thing—it’s classic confirmation bias. You remember the times it rained and you came back. But what about all the dry exits you never returned from?
Sasha: (pause)
Like that internship in Omsk…
Dima:
Exactly. Dry as toast when you left, and you’ve never set foot there again.
Sasha: (thinking)
Well… I did get food poisoning there. So maybe the weather knew not to cry.
Dima: (laughs)
Now that’s some predictive precipitation.
Sasha: (leans in)
You know, I think you secretly like these superstitions. You always argue about them, but you never ignore them entirely. I saw you knock on wood last week.
Dima:
Because you made me nervous! You said, “Let’s hope you don’t crash your new bike!” What was I supposed to do, not knock on wood after that?
Sasha: (smiling smugly)
See? Somewhere in your rational little heart, you want the universe to wink at you.
Dima: (grins)
Maybe. But I’d prefer the universe to wink with data and not drizzle.
Sasha:
Well, I’m taking this rain as a sign I’ll return to this café. You?
Dima:
I’m taking it as a sign that I should’ve brought my umbrella. Again.
Sasha: (raising her teacup)
To returning—be it through rain, logic, or just good tea.
Dima: (clinking cups)
Cheers to that. Though next time, let’s test your theory by leaving on a sunny day and still coming back.
Sasha:
Deal. But if it rains anyway… I’m writing a book.
Science Vs Superstition 
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