A woman who lived on the 8th floor of my building for 50 years was always alone and unfriendly, the kind of neighbor everyone avoided. When she died, the police asked me to come to her flat. Inside, I was shocked to find my entire life documented on her walls—hundreds of photos of me, taken from her balcony from childhood to adulthood. It was unsettling, but I learned that photographing me had been her way of keeping company. Even more surprising, she left me her flat and the photos.

After my dad passed away in 1997, something strange happened. A couple of years later, while driving home with my wife and kids, a familiar scent filled the car. I didn’t say anything, but my four-year-old son suddenly asked what the smell was. My wife turned to me and said, “That’s your father.”

Right after high school, I dated a girl named Jacqueline, the same name as my mother. At first, it just seemed like coincidence. But later, I found out her father had actually dated my mom in high school—and named his daughter after her.

Once, I accidentally went to the wrong office for a job interview. The employer didn’t know I was coming but still interviewed me, though he was rude and dismissive. I left frustrated, only to get home to a voicemail from the real company asking why I hadn’t shown up.

My uncle went through a devastating divorce after his wife left him for another woman. Years later, he revealed that he was gay the whole time—and had a boyfriend while he was married.

Back in the 80s, my aunt dreamed of being abducted by aliens and tested medically. Days later, a dentist’s x-ray showed a strange metal object under her molar. When they tried to remove it, it had vanished.

At a diner, a waitress told us that police officers and kids under five eat free. My six-year-old quickly blurted out, “I’m a police.”

After my father died, I shut off his cell phone and stored it in a drawer. A week later, while wondering why I hadn’t felt his presence, my own phone rang. Caller ID showed it was him. I answered, but there was only silence. His phone was still turned off in the drawer.

I knew a couple who had three daughters over six years. They decided to try one last time for a son—and ended up with triplet boys.

When I was five, I saw a man in a restaurant and told my mom I knew him. She was shocked—it was the doctor who had delivered me, the very first face I ever saw.

A friend in Tokyo once left his iPad on a bench in Yoyogi Park. Hours later, he returned to find it safe, covered with a newspaper someone had placed to protect it from the rain.

And when my best friend was a child in Austria, she walked down an empty Sunday street and froze—staring at a leopard a few blocks away. Too scared to run, she stood still until it wandered off. No one believed her, because leopards don’t live in Austria.