If a black cat crosses your path, let someone else cross first

Setting: A snowy Moscow street, early evening. Two friends, Dima and Alexei, are walking home from work.

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Dima: (halts suddenly)
Wait. Stop. Just stop.
That black cat… it just crossed the path. We’re not going any further.

Alexei: (laughs)
Dima, seriously? Again with the black cat thing? We’ve been through this.

Dima:
You don’t joke about this, Alexei. Everyone knows — if a black cat crosses your path, you let someone else go first. I’m not risking my life over your love of logic.

Alexei:
Risking your life? You sound like you’re in a spy movie. It’s just a cat. A fuzzy, probably hungry, possibly confused cat trying to get to the other side.

Dima:
You weren’t there when it happened last time. Two weeks ago — remember when my radiator exploded?

Alexei:
Yeah, but—

Dima:
Black cat. Ten minutes before.

Alexei:
Dima, your radiator is older than our president. That thing was always going to explode. The cat just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like you.

Dima: (serious face)
You weren’t there when Babushka Nadya slipped on the stairs. Black cat, again.

Alexei: (grinning)
Dima. Babushka Nadya slips on everything. Last month it was a rogue beetroot. And she blamed it on “bad vibrations from the moon.”

Dima:
Hey — don’t underestimate lunar influence. My horoscope warned me, too.

Alexei:
Okay. Let’s just say you’re right — black cats bring bad luck. What’s the mechanism? Do they shoot invisible curse lasers? Do their eyes hack into fate’s mainframe?

Dima: (crosses arms)
You always mock. But these beliefs have been around for centuries. There has to be some truth. Why else would everyone’s grandma say the same thing?

Alexei:
Because grandmas love stories that keep us alert. Like, “Don’t whistle indoors or you’ll lose all your money.” Or “Sit only after the cat has sat down — because cats can detect spirits.”

Dima:
Exactly! Cats know things.

Alexei:
They know how to sleep 20 hours a day. That’s not mystical. That’s laziness.

Dima: (pointing down the street)
Fine. You walk ahead. Prove me wrong.

Alexei: (starts walking)
Gladly. Watch me not spontaneously combust. (walks confidently ahead)
Still here! No pianos falling from the sky, no alien abductions.

Dima: (nervously steps forward)
Okay, okay. But if I lose my wallet again this week, I’m blaming your science.

Alexei:
Deal. And if nothing happens, you owe me blini and hot chocolate.

Dima: (grumbles)
Fine. But if something does happen—

Alexei: (interrupts, smiling)
Then I’ll buy you a black cat of your own, and we’ll name it “Bad Luck.”

Dima:
Ugh. You’re insufferable. But… fair.

Alexei:
That’s the spirit. Now let’s go — before it gets dark and the ghost of Babushka Nadya’s beetroot comes for us.

Dima: (laughs despite himself)
You’re the worst. But I guess you’re growing on me. Like a harmless curse.