Chance. Fate. Destiny. Karma.  All means by which to explain away life--though it seems rather glorious and sublime to rely on life happening as such.  'Only in the movies' as they say...or is it?  Kate Beckingsdale and John Cusack are left to examine Serendipity's reality, though rather than sit waiting for it, take matters into their own hands by manipulating events according to their desired outcome, which, no spoiler here, is romance.

I believe in Fate.  But to leave it as mysterious is something I don't buy into.  How cruel to think that without an Author behind Fate, that we would be subjected to the will of chance?  I rather believe in a good Author, though the world may fault me as the cheesy sap. 

Life isn't the movies.  But then again, sometimes it is.  

[Frozen hot chocolate...now that's good stuff.  I can vouch for this.  Your soulmate appearing in a light dust of snow from out of nowhere?  Hm.  Did I mention the outworkings of Fate aren't always that glamorous?]