Illustration: Albert Tercero H olly Davis didn’t believe in luck until she realized just how unlucky she was. Then she couldn’t quite shake it, this sense of having an anti-Midas touch, bad outcomes following her unprovoked. Often, it was the little things. Reservations she made disappeared. Rides she booked never came. Someone else would fill out an annoying but vital online form without a hitch; the site would crash as soon as she tried. Her neighbors’ plants glowed a lustrous green while