Everything happens for a reason.

That's what people tell me. To some extent, I agree.

But something happened to me the other day to never want to encounter that phrase ever again...

A quiet, well-lit Sunday afternoon in England, but not being an outdoor type, I stayed in, in order to enjoy the internet.

I was discussing a large cockroach which had found its way into my shoe, which I found to my horror as I pulled the damn thing on. One of my friends told me that, "Everything happens for a reason."

I asked her how this cockroach being in my shoe could possibly have a good reason for being there, as I don't frequently store food in my footwear. She laughed, and told me that had I stepped outside, I would probably have encountered something horrendous.

Remembering why I had gone down in the first place, which was to fetch a bandage, as a glass perched on top of my wardrobe had fallen, and cracked over my head, dazing me and sending blood and glass shrapnel everywhere. I asked her why that had happened, and she said that if I hadn't gone downstairs, the murderer in the next house would probably have spied me through the window. I laughed, and hung up.

That night, I heard the sound of many vehicles outside.

Wondering why someone would come to a dead-end street, I stepped outside, where I saw a small collection of police cars on the street. I questioned the nearest officer. He told me a murder had taken place, in the next house. He then asked if, as my room was positioned opposite the room where the murder had taken place, I had seen anything. I simply replied, "No," and went back inside.

I have never received contact from my friend since.