The Unlucky Break

It seemed like bad luck was plaguing Evan Carter. It was luck, but not all bad.

Evan Carter’s life was a cascade of misfortune. At 32, he was a mid-level accountant in the bustling city of Halverton, a coastal metropolis known for its gleaming skyscrapers and relentless pace. He wasn’t rich, but he was comfortable—until the dominoes started falling.


It began with a spilled coffee. Rushing to a client meeting, Evan tripped on a curb, sending his latte splashing across his boss’s pristine suit. The client, unimpressed by the chaos, pulled their account. Evan’s boss, already on edge from corporate pressure, didn’t hesitate. “You’re done, Carter,” he barked, handing Evan his termination papers by noon. No severance, no second chance.


Jobless, Evan scrambled to cover rent, but Halverton’s cost of living was merciless. He burned through savings, missed payments, and within three months, his landlord evicted him. The apartment he’d called home for five years—gone. His belongings, stuffed into a duffel bag, were all he had left. Friends offered sympathy but no couch; they had their own struggles. Humiliated and broke, Evan felt cursed.


Desperate, he scoured job boards. A small firm in Crestwood, a quiet city 300 miles inland, offered him an entry-level accounting gig. The pay was a fraction of his old salary, but it was a lifeline. With his last $200, Evan bought a bus ticket and said goodbye to Halverton, the city that had chewed him up and spat him out. As the bus pulled away, he glanced at the skyline, a mix of resentment and relief churning in his gut.


The journey to Crestwood was long, the bus rattling through endless highways. Evan arrived at dusk, exhausted but hopeful. The city was smaller, greener, with low-rise buildings and a sleepy> Evan checked into a cheap motel, planning to start his new job the next morning. He flicked on the TV while unpacking, half-listening to a news report about a “near-Earth asteroid” that scientists were tracking. “Low risk,” the anchor said. Evan snorted. With his luck, it’d probably hit Halverton just to spite him.


That night, he slept fitfully, dreaming of falling stars.


At 3:17 a.m., Evan jolted awake. The motel room was shaking. His phone buzzed with alerts. He stumbled to the window, heart pounding, and saw a distant glow on the horizon, like a second sunrise. The TV blared: “Catastrophic impact… Halverton obliterated… asteroid strike… millions feared dead.” Footage showed a glowing crater where the city once stood, the coastline reshaped by a shockwave that leveled everything. Tsunamis were flooding nearby towns. Halverton, his old life, was gone.


Evan sank to the floor, numb. His old office, his apartment, the coffee shop he’d cursed daily—all erased. If he hadn’t been fired, hadn’t been evicted, he’d be ash. His “bad luck” had saved him. He’d made it to Crestwood just in time.


The next morning, still in shock, Evan walked to his new job. The office was abuzz with news of the disaster, colleagues whispering about survivors—there were none from Halverton itself. His new boss, a kind-eyed woman, handed him a contract. “You’re lucky to be here,” she said, not knowing the half of it.


Evan nodded, signing his name. For the first time in months, he felt the weight of his misfortune lift. He was alive. He had a job, a new city, a second chance. Sometimes, he thought, the universe works in brutal, the universe works in mysterious ways.