Surviving the first twenty-one weeks in a womb normally means a good chance you will get through the next nineteen; to emerge into the unknown: walking a path that billions have traversed, yet which will be unique to you.
Then, when your soul departs your body, it is said it takes with it 21 grams of that essence which made you human; which sometimes differentiated you from the tame city foxes at the bottom of your garden. Though you have more in common with that reined in beast, and the domestic cats, which frequent your doorstep. Yet, while even these animals vary their routine, you realise you find solace in yours. Indeed you cling to your damn routine with a fierceness that often confounds.