You never know which random Thursday will become the day you met your best friend.

Important days are indistinguishable from unimportant ones while they are happening. The friendship that reorganizes your twenties starts in a line, at a bus stop, on a shift nobody wanted, and nothing marks it. You cannot schedule these. All you control is whether you talk to people when you are there.

Say something to one person this week you would normally not speak to. The new kid, somebody at work from a different school, the person sitting alone. Most of it goes nowhere, and each attempt costs thirty seconds.