/lit/ - Literature

Do you believe in signs? I never really have, but lately I've been encountering some interesting items which make my pattern-recognizing mind (the same foolish sort which reads stories in the heavens) raise a brow.
You see, the other day I was told what the final exam for my advanced French class would be: I would have to talk about a skill of mine. I had had a similar speech, albeit in English, in my public speaking course years ago. As I had no real talents or skills (And still am without either), I resorted to a more humorous speech. I learned how to solve a Rubik's Cube, and showed it off, mentioning at the end that I had learned it just for the occasion. That idea recurred to my mind, but here I had no Rubik's Cube. And yet mere days later I encountered one left on a bench just on my usual route to my apartment. Leaving it there for whichever thoughtless person had forgotten it was never an option.
And now, over a week later, I've been having trouble making up my mind (Or perhaps simply working up the balls). Should I take a swing and ask out a very attractive girl of Indian descent who's in a few of my classes? I failed to work up the courage to ask her out in my first of two classes with her this week, just earlier today. Afterwards, during my usual Monday trip to the delightful weekly flea market, I encountered an object which held a sort of magnetism over me. One which I, as an Englishman and a lover of Kipling, could never see for sale and leave without. An article with a certain symbolic meaning.
A pith helmet. Made in England, around the time of WWII. I bought it, of course, and consider it 60 euros well-spent. I spent the next two hours wearing it as I continued to browse the flea market and walk around the Old Town.
And now I've concluded that I can no longer shy from my destiny. I must ask the girl out. Whether or not she says yes, I'd regret ignoring this so-called sign for years.
pic related: LITERALLY me