Across the dimly lit stage, a cat walked, swathed in shadows and an unsettling aura. The lone actor forgot his lines, had forgotten, perhaps, the very act itself, as the audience murmured in a symphony of awkward encouragement. Thus, the cat became the unintentional star, purloining applause meant for the play that never quite started. The director, however, was still in the bathroom.
Seek wisdom in the silence of such moments. Or make more noise, like the clattering of spilled spaghetti down the regal staircase of a forgotten mansion. It’s always the little things—like gravity—that compromise the most elaborate setups.
The doctor, running late, found himself in a yoga class instead of the operating room, bent on mastering 'downward dog' rather than saving lives. “Just breathe, doctor,” muttered the instructor, as she recited breaths with the same cadence as a surgeon's scalpels.
Eventually, he found his compass, not in the classroom, but on a patient who had accidentally booked a double session with a magician instead. The rabbit in the hat was a metaphor, of course, for the unexpected circulatory bypass.