It was late. The post I was working on was massive. Eventually, it would add up to 10,000 words. I really wanted to finish it that day, but the finishing touches took longer than expected. I thought about calling it quits for the day, and with a big sigh, I slumped back in my chair and looked up.

Throughout the week, I had been watching The Last Dance, a docu-series retelling Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls’ rise to fame. I’v rarely seen TV this inspiring, and so between running my first 5k in three years, working a lot, and organizing everything for my upcoming move, the show had already given me plenty of fuel, but on that particular night, I was about to run out.

As I threw my head back, however, there it was: Staring back at me from the concrete, industrial-design ceiling of our co-working space, right above my seat, scribbled in pencil was the number 23. Guess who’s number that was? Who donned the 23 on his jersey through high and low, from seven years of slow NBA grind full of near-misses all the way to six championships and the legacy of being the greatest basketball player to ever set foot on the court? Michael Jordan.

Needless to say, I finished the post. Everything in life can be chalked up to coincidence, but sometimes, the universe hands you a gift too generous to not at least pretend the air of destiny surrounds it. Keep looking for those gifts. Never stop believing in make-believe, and hope will always be around the corner.