Write a piece of fiction describing the incident that gave rise to the phrase, “third time’s the charm.”

It was a day like any other day; the sun was shining in all of its glory, not a cloud in the sky. The blue was deeper than the usual sky blue that day, it looked like a painting it was so perfect. I was on my way home, trying to ignore the persistent pressure on my bladder that was interrupting my appreciation of the beauteous perfection all around me. The birds were out in force singing their songs, the air was full of lavender and lilac scent wafting through on a gentle summer breeze and all that I could think of was the stringent need to find my commode. I finally got to the front door.

My keys had been in hand ever since my pressing need arose, a mile back or so. My hands were trembling and the keys were not cooperating. The first attempt at putting key to key hole resulted in the keys falling to the floor. I had to painfully bend over to pick them up.

By this time, my forehead was wet with perspiration at the dire need to get in my house. Once again putting key to key hole, it won't go in. Why isn't the key WORKING?!

My brain is shutting down away from any cognitive ability, it is all primal now. Must get key into hole and get in door. Wrong key, WHERE IS THE RIGHT KEY?!

One last time, key into hole and click. IT WORKED! I run scrambling to the commode and the bliss allows my brain to understand that the third time is indeed the charm.

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