Nulla dies sine linea. Four sentences every day. About whatever happened that day. Most of it's even true. Written by Scott Lee Williams
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Schrodinger's Lottery Ticket
On the way back in the house from taking the dog for a walk, I reach down to pick up a discarded scratch lottery ticket someone wedged between the stoop and the railing. It's one of those tickets where you scratch off one or two numbers, and then, if you match it, you win some money.
But the tickets are already printed, I think to myself. The winning ticket has already been printed, and you might have bought it or not, but you won't know until you scratch it off.