Writing Prompt: 2026-03-17

A spray of emerald green dye coats the Chicago River, but something else is floating amidst the artificial foliage, something undeniably *human* – and in its hand, clutched tight, is not a shillelagh, but a single, withered four-leaf clover. The panicked call comes from a voice warped with an accent thicker than Guinness, "He said the leprechaun took his luck…and then he jumped."