Predict

The lady — with eyeliner caked onto her eyes — gazed deeply into my mine as she raised her hand over my cup of tea. Seeming to lose control of her muscles and general ligaments, a spasm shot through her and my fate was predicted, supposedly. It was strange, for some reason, I was actually anxiousness for the result even though I clearly knew that ones future cannot be foretold based off creases in thy hands nor off the remnants of ones tea. She fed off foolish and drunkenly gullible people – desperate people like me. But despite that, I still walked to her blindingly bedazzled store, greeted the her, smiled, sat down, paid my $7.50 and sipped away at a cup of tea half full of air; which brings me to where I am now, waiting for her to finish probing my limp tea leaves. I’m not quite sure what to think of this whole affair.

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