"Damn," she said, squatting to retrieve the pieces before someone cut themselves.
"That's bad luck," said Winston, stooping to help.
"Too right it is." Meinwen gathered up the larger bits. "That's twenty quid down the drain. Ouch!" She pulled a sliver of glass from her finger and blood welled out, several droplets falling onto the cobbled and the plastic figure. She sucked at it.
"No, I mean it's bad luck like a black cat on a ladder." Winston stood and scraped up several shards with the toe of his boot. "It's a portent of disaster. A harbinger of evil approaching."
Meinwen looked up at him. "Broken snow globes in general or just ones with angels in them?"
"Broken statues of angels covered in blood, in particular."
"Ah," Meinwen stood up and dusted herself off. "Good job I don't believe in all that guff then."
Winston frowned. "How can you not? You run a shop that sells all kinds of divination equipment. Crystal balls and tarot cards and I-Ching sets."
"Exactly," said Meinwen. "So if I followed all the portents as well, I'd never survive Blackie crossing the kitchen to get to his cat dish."