You don’t get pistachios in regular trail mix. You get raisins, peanuts, hazelnuts, cashews, almonds, but no pistachios. It’s a principle as unshakable as the laws of physics. So when I found a pistachio in my bag of trail mix, not only was I amazed, but I felt––for a moment––like the chosen one.

However, I noticed at once that fate had acted with its own particular sense of humor. Yes, it had sent a pistachio my way, but a closed one, without even the narrowest slit in which to stick a fingernail and open the shell. Instead of a gap, there was a bulge––like the pursed lips of an obstinate child who refuses to say “good morning” to an elderly person.

Even though I knew it wa