Tarot

The neighborhood psychic set out her table, tent, display board, and cards. Middle of July, this was a surprising day for rain. She had posted paper signs around the neighborhood advertising her services from 11 to 3. 

When I arrived, she explained that her grandmother had gifted her the cards. She had been a witch, you see, and had raised her mother to be a witch. But her mother, in the way children do, rejected the training. She set out to learn the ways of magic, and practicing on her neighbors seemed as good a bet as any.

The cards came up inconclusive for me. She said the power of decision was already there. Soft sprinkling raindrops echoed off the canopy of the tent.

No. 122