Early in the morn on the first day of finals week, I found a cricket skittering across my hardwood floor. I was happy to see it, not only because I was an insectophile who’d spent many a cold autumn day without seeing a single bug, but because a cricket was a sign of luck.
I caught the little black insect and placed it in an open box under my bed. Smiling to myself, I went off to the Union building for some breakfast (and a handful of berries for the cricket). But while I was gone, the cricket took a bite of an orange peel I’d neglected to remove from the box, became paralyzed, and died, just as I returned to my room.
I hope this is not an omen.