Arriving back at the apartment, I take the PowerBall tickets from my shirt pocket, and together Musettes and I look over the numbers that we chose. The top lines of the two tickets are very similar, sharing many of the same numbers. It is odd because we had chosen the numbers for one and the computer had chosen the numbers for the other one.

Maybe that means something, Musette says.

Maybe, I say, putting the tickets into the cigar box next to our rent checks.