Coincidentally....(a Shem story)

Shem was at home reading the newspaper, when a story caught his eye
'THE GREAT PAPER CHASE' :

Like many of us, Peter Smith (53) enjoys filling in his crossword every
morning. Last Thursday, he completed the crossword of this very paper
on his way to a meeting in London, and, being a litterbug by his own
admission, left it on the train when he stepped off at Euston.
After a long day, he got onto a Circle Line tube train to take him to
his hotel in Paddington. Looking for something to read, he turned over
the crumpled paper on the seat next to him, only to see the crossword
that he had filled in that very morning. He says 'When you think how
many people there are in London, and how many papers there are left
about, it's really quite a coincidence'.
But it didn't end there - although he left the paper on the Circle
Line, he found it on the precise seat he had booked on an early
Eurostar train the next morning. 'I really expected Eurostar to be
tidier than that', Mr Smith adds.

Shem raised an eyebrow. He'd never paid much attention to coincidences,
but he did wonder what was behind them sometimes. Perhaps, he thought,
there might be something around his house on the matter. After all,
there were certainly a lot of things in there, pertaining to a lot of
matters. His glance caught a piece of paper fluttering precariously
atop a tall pile of indistinguishable stuff. Shem plucked it off before
it fell, and saw that on it was scribbled a telephone number, next to
the name 'Coincidence'. 'Fancy that.' he thought to himself, not seeing
the humour in that thought at all.

So he arduously rang the number on his heavy bakelite phone, to be
answered after a few rings by a gruff voice.
'Hello, Coincidence here.'
Shem, a sceptic despite his somewhat unusual lifestyle, bluntly stated
'There's no such thing as coincidence'
'I resent people saying that!' the voice came indignantly.
'So, uhm&;#8230;this newspaper thing and so on, that's you is
it?'
'It is indeed&;#8230;.' the voice trailed off
'Hello?'
'Tell you what, sir,' it continued more warmly now, 'if you're
interested, why not come over for a chat. Don't get too many
visitors.'
'Oh, well I don't see why not' Shem replied, having been a bit lonely
himself lately.
He was about to put the phone down when he remembered to ask 'And where
do you live?'
'Just wonder about for a bit, you'll find it.'
'Fair enough, I'll be around this afternoon, then. Goodbye.'

That afternoon, Shem, feeling a little ragged around the edges,
fluttered down to the ground in a shower of black feathers. A few
people looked up at the curious mass, a few people noted them
reassemble themselves into a tall, lugubrious figure which sloped off
through the market, and a few stallholders even greeted him by
name.

'What a piece of luck!' came a strong voice nearby. Shem turned
around, to see a young man holding up a long bright scarf from one of
the stalls.

'Just on me way home, all worried like,' the young continued to the
stallholder, 'nicked the wife's scarf without asking her this morning
and left it on the bus, didn't I? I don't know me way around here, and
truth to tell, I'm kind of lost. But here you are with the exact same
one, and I ain't never seen another one like it before. You've saved me
skin, mate!'

Could it be a sign, Shem wondered. Or maybe it was just a coincidence?
Or maybe that was all the same thing. This coincidence was a confusing
business. On the opposite side of the street, a man with the sourest
face he'd ever seen, dressed in full clown costume, was slouching
towards the roadside to hail a taxi. A driver drew up, and didn't seem
to notice his client's attire in the slightest.

After a little while, he noticed an open door by the back entrance to
a restaurant, so he went in.
'Found it alright, did you?' came the voice from the telephone call
earlier that day.
Coincidence, a rotund old man in cords and a collarless shirt, sat
wedged in a large leather chair.
'Yes, fine thank you.' Shem looked around. Other than the chair and an
astonishingly ornate porcelain samovar, the room was almost empty, so
he sat himself down on a tea-crate.

'You know, it's funny that I've never come across you before' the angel
started
'One of those things' the man replied.
A thought entered Shem's head 'You weren't trying to get my attention
by any chance, you know, with that story in the paper.'
'Pure coincidence.' sighed the man, without a hint of humour.
'What is it you do all day?'
'There's not much I can do,' said the man, 'I can amuse myself with
little tricks on the City folk, but as for myself, I'm quite reliant
on, well&;#8230;.'
'Coincidence?'
'Absolutely, I just wait to see what comes my way.'

So they talked, about nothing in particular, until Shem asked
Coincidence how he scheduled things.
'Recently upgraded' he said, slurring over the last word, as if it were
unfamiliar. He pointed to a whirring screen to his left - a computer,
but one so old as to have a black screen with green letters flashing on
it. Not that its age would strike Shem, who had no conception of
technology, and didn't plan to gain any.
The line at the top of the screen read 'Alfred Bracegirdle, on holiday
from US to find out that barman at hotel in Stratford-upon-Avon is son
from wartime fling with Alice McBroom'
'That's a nice one.' the angel commented
'Funny - don't get many of those', Coincidence replied, 'usually just
stuff like the paper, truth to tell.'
'Do you ever&;#8230;take a holiday?' Shem asked
'Yeah, sometimes, but nobody notices.'
'But there can't be any coincidences without you on duty?'
'I suppose not, but who's counting 'em?'
Shem sat back and though for a moment. Life needed Coincidence, that
was true. But maybe not all the time.

As he left later, he saw a policeman laughing with his handcuffed
captive about their days at school.