it was winter, several years ago, as the year came to an end. we had a sudden hunger for spices, and we sought to satiate it. when we walked down the stairs to the restaurant, we saw a woman sitting by herself at a small table under a window. we were told her name, and it slipped on our tongues—the circle of birth, life and death disclosed in three simple syllables. we knew it wasn’t her given name, but we were here, she was there, and our fortunes lay between us. we decided that she read them.
i went first. i struggled to remove my necklace and slid it on to her. she held it in her hands and asked me if i mingled with energies. she saw my spirit guides around us, watchful and protective. she spoke of loves, of aches, of changes in paths. my fortune tends to shift with every move of the cup, with the coffee ground, the warmth of the alloys, and my ability to smile. i feared that my ennui, sehnsucht, spleen or existential angst would come to light, and i cut open my chest as an apology. she told me not to worry, that i was exceptionally safe. i listened and gave her the benefit of the doubt; she and i shared something between the silver of my necklace, even if it meant nothing.
you went next, while i waited in the afterglow of my rhymes. when you came back, you were overwhelmingly still, with pupils cimmerian in your chestnut eyes. you didn’t explain what had happened, and i didn’t push the matter—i couldn’t reconcile myself with humanity if i didn’t believe part of our nature could be explained by some form of inner torment or secret. i felt guilty for my reading, treacherous even, that you were not included in it. you should have been there, i know. how desperately you longed to be a part of it. i felt sorry that i couldn’t include you, though i was quietly relieved by the thought of a future with no holds barred. there was no denying the power of my walls, and you always stood in the trenches.
we left the restaurant that night, you and i, with burning mouths stinging in silence between our lots. someone had to see it.