The woman gestures at the cards. "Take them and shuffle them as much as you feel is necessary."

I grip the cards and study them. They feel a little waxy but well-used, and the spiderweb on the back of each card seems to gleam as if shiny. I shuffle the cards lightly, flicking them a couple of times before cutting twice and then offering them back to her.

She taps a spot on the table, and I put the stack of cards there. "What's your first question?" she asks, watching me with intent eyes.

I think. I have so many but there's one that keeps rising to mind over and over again. "Who is it I heard? The strange man?"

The fortune teller nods slowly. I can see Sherry staring at me, but I ignore her. I have to, because if I feel silly, I'm going to get up and leave and I need to know what this woman sees. I keep my gaze on the fortune teller and watch as she carefully picks up the first card from the deck and sets it down on the table.

It's a dark-haired man on a throne.

"The King of Pentacles," she says, looking thoughtful. "That's a strong, assertive man. One of power and ambition. He's someone that stops everyone in their tracks when they see him. He's…" She thinks for a moment. "He's like a force of nature. Takes over everything in his path."

I blink, staring at the card. It's a man. What she says matches the voice I keep hearing but…I still don't know who it is.

"Are you dating someone?" Sherry asks, amused. “And you didn’t tell me about it? You hooker.”

I shake my head. There’s no one.

"Be silent," the fortune teller hisses at Sherry. "This is not about you."

My friend gasps and shrinks back.

Well, crap. I give Sherry an apologetic look and then turn back to the fortune teller. "I don't…I don't know this man. There's no guy in my life like this."

The woman tilts her head. "Are you asking who he is to you?" At my nod, she turns over another card. "The Lovers."

The card has two people standing apart, a man and a woman. They're both naked. I can pretty much guess what this is about. “You sure this is my fortune?”

"If he's not a lover, he will be soon," the psychic murmurs, ignoring my question. “The cards don’t lie.”

"But…how? I don't understand." It can't be someone at work, and I don't do much outside of work. Especially not lately. "Where am I going to meet this guy? I keep going to his apartment and there’s no one there. There’s never anyone there."

The fortune teller turns over another card. It's a woman, floating in midair, with a green wreath around her. "The World, reversed."

"What does that mean?"

She puts a finger to her chin, thinking. "When The World is right side up, it means that a journey of knowledge is coming to an end. The circle is being completed." She traces her finger around the wreath on the card. "But for you, the journey is just about to begin."

OceanofPDF.com

2

When we get back to the office, Sherry doesn't speak to me for the rest of the day. She’s either mad because the fortune teller was rude to her, or she thinks I’m crazy. I'll take her out for lunch tomorrow and apologize up and down. She'll forget all about it, other than teasing me at the next office happy hour. Now that I’ve had a few hours to stew on the reading, it does sound a bit like the usual “you're going to meet a man” schtick. As we left, Sherry filled my ears with how gullible I was to fall for it.

Maybe it was a silly thing to do. I don’t care. I finally feel like I'm getting somewhere.

A man. Like a force of nature.

The lovers.

You're about to begin a journey.

Those thoughts repeat in my head over and over again as I shut down my computer at the end of the day and gather my things. More than that, though, I keep thinking of what she said about my…glow, or my aura, or whatever she called it. My spiderwebs.

You're about to begin a journey.

I wonder what that means. What damn journey? I've lived in the city all my life. I've worked at the bank for five of those years, and went to college here prior to that. I don't travel. There was never the money growing up, and there hasn't been a reason since my parents died while I was in college. There's no one to visit and no extra money for pleasure trips. I rarely date. I have friends, but I never hang onto them for long. They transfer to different departments, or move away, or get married and then we drift apart. I’m always more or less alone.

I'm boring.

So why me? Why is this happening?

I can't help but feel that the voice in the next apartment was reaching out to the wrong person. Maybe that's why he stopped talking to me. A psychic wrong number.

I don't know that someone as unexciting as Faith Gordon is destined to be the lover of a force of nature. I mean, my last boyfriend left me for an accountant. If that doesn’t tell you everything about my life, nothing will.

Even so…I could use a little adventure. "Well, King of Pentacles,” I dare the air around me. “If you've got something to show me, you can start that journey any freaking time now. I'm just saying. I get vacation time in two weeks."

The office is silent.

Maybe the King of Pentacles is more of a night shift sorta guy.

I wake up in the middle of the night, alert for no reason at all. My ears strain, trying to make out sound. There's only the distant rumble of thunder, an oncoming storm. I sit up and listen for voices, but there's nothing. So why am I awake?

Then, I hear it. There's a distant sound of drums. At first I think it's the storm brewing overhead, but it's got too even a beat, and when lightning clashes a short distance away, it sounds dissonant to the music. I get to my feet, wondering if it's someone playing a CD too loud.

But it sounds like it's coming from next door. The empty apartment.

Oh shit. It’s him. It has to be.

I get out of bed, sliding to my feet, and tiptoe across the floor. I move toward the shared wall, the one that faces the so-called empty apartment. We're at the end of the hall, so there's no one on the other side of that particular wall except for it. I put a hand on the wall itself and then press my ear to it, listening.

Nothing.

Frustrated, I lean back and study the wall. Maybe it’s not it. Thunder rumbles overhead, and the music's gone. Something about this feels wrong. All of it feels wrong. It's like…like I'm hearing something I shouldn't. Getting a glimpse of something that I have no permission to access.

The music starts again, and the hair stands up on the back of my neck. There's a low wail of a flute, and the drums begin their ceaseless beat once more.

This is not my imagination. My imagination can't even remember the lyrics to TV jingles, much less an entire song. I have to know what this is. Even if it's just someone messing with me, I'll be happier knowing than just wondering. I can’t let the opportunity pass by again.

I pull on a pair of pajama pants to go with my pink pajama top, and a pair of slippers. I head to the front door of my apartment, and then pause, checking the clock. Four in the morning. Okay, that's a shitty hour, but it's still reasonably safe to assume I could be up, if I need the excuse. With that in mind, I open my door and head into the hallway.