Threes

“Doesn’t it seem like everything is happening in more than threes?” she asked. “More than what?” he replied, confused. “You know,” she continued, “the belief that everything comes in threes - good news, bad news, people in general? Well, it feels like more than three lately, like it’s the Grab Bag of Death special down at the market!” He patted her arm. “Don’t be silly!” he teased her. “Let’s get out of here; let’s promenade!” She nodded, and they left their suite on the RMS Titannic and strolled a bit. The deep was quiet and still cared nothing about the land and its tawdry business.