The Pigman (was it fate)

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A man walks up to you in a bookstore and hands you a book, clearly not from this place it looks as if it had been read a thousand times before. You take the worn compile of paper and ink and mumble a soft thank you, diluted from your confusion and the baffled look distorting your face. You take the book home and flip through the pages; it seems interesting so you decide you may as well read it. There is no author, no title page but none-the-less a story inside. You read the book and are inspired so greatly by it, you decide to write a story of your own; your story sells, not only does it sell but it gets many awards and is somewhere on the list of great novels of all time. Your story inspires many to find their own talent in themselves. Now… when the man handed you that book…was it fate or was it simply a kind gesture that evolved into something much, much more?
I think things don't depend so much on fate but maybe a very general, vague plan. I believe we were given free will to choose our paths. I don’t believe it was fate for Mr. Pignati as much as it was the outcome of the choices John, Lorraine and Mr. Pignati himself made, although I don;t believe Mr. Pignati;s death was fate but instead his time to go as God had known and chosen.
All that held Mr. Pignati;s mind and heart from corruption was the lingering love that settled upon memories of the past, Bobo, someone always there; and a few strands of hope threaded into his heart like a water and flour mixture holding puzzle pieces together unlike the hot glue or concrete that makes one so strong. I believe that there never truly was a Mr. Pignati; that that mans heart and soul already lay with his wife in heaven and what was left was simply the frame of a picture as if the photograph once enclosed drifted silently to the worn carpet below and glass shards sprinkled down upon the beaming faces of the once so happy couple. John and Lorraine braided these …