Re: In With the Fortune Teller
The author was still uncertain about the inclusion of incense. He tittered about it, to himself, to the fluffy white ash of his cigar where it balanced on its tray. He inked his pen. He wrote:
Our protagonist did not know how exchanges such as these were meant to transpire. "Was he meant to The coin clacked as enamel of teeth snapping. Our protagonist was a warm man, drawn too to the flame that licked at the insides of this strange woman. He had seen scenes set as such, but never before had he been been a part of one. His eyes were beryl, briolette and bright.
Her fingers flu were precise, mechanical, as she wove her web. But it was when she broke away, when she touched crescent of nail to the sextant-sharded crystal, that he looked into her eyes.
The timer had begun.
The significance of the number s
"Good evening," replied our protagonist as he folded his hands atop the table. It was impossible not to be struck by the image of the Fates, the Moirai, and here was Clotho, spinning gold, but never severing it. What was he to make of that? "What is it? Will you read it?"