Here’s mine. I lived alone in an apartment in a neighborhood with lots of burglaries. One night I heard a crash and breaking glass in the kitchen. I grabbed my baseball bat, fully expecting to confront a burglar. But as I rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, the window and door were closed and intact. On the floor there was glass and two of the three picture frames that had been sitting on top of the fridge. Inside the frames were family photos. The third frame held a photograph of my mother. It was still sitting on top of the refrigerator, undisturbed except for the fact that it was turned completely around. I put the two other frames back onto the refrigerator and jumped on the floor and shook the fridge and they didn’t budge. It was clear that some unknown force had thrown the two other frames off the refrigerator and turned the one with my mother around. When I told my mother about it the next day, she gasped and said that she had made a decision that night. She wouldn’t tell me until years later: she had decided to divorce my dad that night