She beckoned to me with a crooked finger.
I stepped into her tent, dropping coins in a box.
Fanning the cards in front of me, she smiled an evil smile.
I chose a card then, hopefully, held it up.
She reached into the box and handed back my coins.
Candace Kubinec wrote this story.
The fortuneteller strokes my hand, the callouses along my fingertips. Her brow furrows. “You have the hands of a pianist… But that cannot be…”
My nostrils burn in a dark, musty room, air of silence shattered by empty notes only I hear. She shudders at my memories, proving herself authentic.
Denise Long writes from her home in Nebraska. She works as a freelance copy editor and an English instructor. In her spare time, she is also a wife, and a mother to two young boys. Her flash fiction has appeared in or is forthcoming from Burrow Press Review, Journal of Microliterature, and The Story Shack, among others. She occupies a small bit of online space at denisehlong.com.