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I could just point at him and he’ll take my place.
There. Scales balanced. No more Ari.
Ari.You son of a bitch.
I look away from the old man. He could have kids or grandkids. A spouse. Or a job in public service. People might depend on him.
Even if he’s a bitter, old fool, it’s still not my right to take that life away.
I could never do that.
And I bet Ari knows that.
I turn away from him and find myself standing beneath a familiar neon sign.
Madam Cassandra’s. The tarot reader.
I blink twice as a phantom string tugs at my ribs. A few heavy moments pass before my feet carry me toward the entrance.
“Hello?” I ask as I step inside.
The floor is empty. The air is filled with the scent of candles lit around the shop. Incense tingles my nose once more and I recall how silly all this seemed just a few short nights ago. Doesn’t seem all that strange anymore. Not after what I know now.
“Welcome back.”
Cassandra emerges from behind the curtain with a kind smile. For a moment, I almost don’t recognize her. Her hair sits up high in a messy bun. Her lips, which were a deep shade of purple-black before, now glisten with nothing more than a clear gloss.
She sticks her hands in the front pockets of her overalls and laughs. “All Hallow’s Eve is over,” she says with a wink.
I nod. “I see.”
She shrugs. “The witchy look always brings in a... certain type. Good for business.”
“Makes sense.”
“Not everyone comes back, though.” She looks me up and down. “Especially not so soon.”
“Yeah, I...” I shift on my feet. “I’m not sure why I came in here, exactly...”
Cassandra tilts her head. “Probably not to chat about this mediocre weather we’re having.” She turns and pushes the curtain open with her hand.
She disappears into the shadows. I don’t wait for her to offer. I follow her into the back room. Again, it’s not as dark or cliché as it was on Halloween night. The black curtains are torn down, now revealing bookcases full of trinkets and bottles and other things I don’t recognize.
The table, on the other hands, appears almost the same with the black velvet square and the same tarot deck sitting in the center.
Cassandra takes her seat and I sit across from her. “You seem different,” she says, her eyes knowing far more than she speaks.
I snort. “You’re not wrong.”
She nudges the deck in my direction and I remember what to do. I pick it up, once again admiring the age and wear on the cards, before shuffling them three times.
“Nothing wrong with different,” she says. “It’s good, most of the time.”
I set the deck down, not quite sure if I agree with that or not.
Cassandra smiles. “I didn’t use to think so, either,” she says. I nearly flinch. “But change isn’t always a test. And tests aren’t always something we can prepare for. Change is natural. It’s evolution, lying dormant inside of us all along.”
I raise a brow and she laughs.
