|Maggie Johnson smoothed her dress, grabbed her son's arm, and gazed at the crowd. A spring day, warmer than most, people mingled in high spirits. Strangers chatted, laughter filled the platform, friends made. Decked in their finest clothes and mood they slapped backs and shook hands.
Sammy Johnson tugged his mother's arm. His fidgety behavior attributed to his excitement and restless sleep. Crying, he dropped to the ground. He wanted to go home. Maggie shushed him, patted his head, and told him he was lucky.
When the sun disappeared, the crowd looked at the ominous clouds, commenting on the change in the weather. When the sun returned, the people cheered, confident of the good times ahead.
Crows flew in, landed on the pillars, flapping their wings and squawking. The men ran, waving their hats, shooing them away. Order restored, they returned to their conversations.
No one thought of impending doom, except Sammy. He braced himself, pulled his mother toward the street. She laughed, picked him up and kissed his cheek.
If the omen - don't do that, it's bad luck had appeared in the sky, they would have laughed, pointing fingers at the crazy message.
Maggie fell in line, eyes shining with excitement, she held Sammy's hand, retrieved their tickets and boarded the Titanic.