[Scene: Two friends, Emma and James, are sitting in a café in Manchester, sipping tea after Emma tripped going up the stairs.]
Emma: (grinning) Well, James, looks like I’m getting married soon.
James: (raising an eyebrow) Married? What are you on about? You just tripped over your own feet.
Emma: Oh, you don’t know the saying? “If you stumble going up the stairs, it means a wedding’s on the horizon.” It’s fate nudging me.
James: (laughing) Or maybe it’s just gravity nudging you. Honestly, Emma, if every stumble meant a wedding, half of Britain would be engaged by now.
Emma: Don’t mock! My nan swore by it. She stumbled on the stairs at work when she was twenty-five, and within a year she met my granddad.
James: That’s just coincidence. Loads of people fall up stairs—it’s practically a national sport. But only a small fraction end up marrying soon after. If your nan hadn’t tripped, she’d still have met your granddad.
Emma: Maybe, but you’ve got to admit it’s a charming idea. Falling upwards leading to falling in love. Poetic, isn’t it?
James: Poetic, yes. Scientific, no. Think about it—people are clumsy. I tripped twice last week running for the train. If this superstition were true, I’d be in a polygamous mess by now.
Emma: (laughs) Well, maybe you’re just unlucky in love. The superstition clearly doesn’t apply to everyone.
James: See, that’s the problem—you can twist these sayings to fit any outcome. If someone gets married after stumbling, “proof!” If they don’t, “oh, exception!” That’s not evidence, that’s just storytelling.
Emma: But stories matter. Superstitions give life a bit of magic. Imagine tripping and thinking, “Well, maybe romance is on the way.” It’s comforting, hopeful.
James: I’ll give you that—it’s harmless as long as you don’t actually plan your life around it. But I’d rather rely on meeting people than on dodgy stair-related prophecies.
Emma: Fine, Mr. Rational. But when I walk down the aisle, tripping might’ve been the first sign. You’ll be eating your words.
James: And if you don’t get married anytime soon, I’ll be there with a safety helmet every time you approach a staircase—just in case fate tries again.
Emma: (snorts with laughter) Deal. But you better get a nice one. I don’t want my wedding photos featuring a neon orange hard hat.
James: (grinning) Done. Fashion-forward and scientifically approved.
Science Vs Superstition 
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