Short Story: A Fortune Teller

The sky had long since turned silky black, stars blinking in and out behind the rising fog, when she found the little booth. It was nothing more than a wooden stand, deep purple tapestries flowing down from the trellis hiding most of the structure. When she stood right in front of it, a gap in the cloth revealed a little ticket window lit up with soft orange light. The sign over the window read:

Fortunes Foretold

She moved closer, peering into the curtains. Inside, perched on a stool, was a young man reading by candlelight. He wore a white button up shirt and jeans; the only strange thing about him was the old fashioned, woven vest that draped loosely over his shoulders and the bright shock of blue hair that tumbled over his eyes. As she moved closer, he shifted, setting the book on a little shelf to his right and stretching his long arms in the air. She glanced at the book, reading the title – Fortune Telling for Dummies – with a cocked eyebrow. Lowering his arms from his stretch, the man shook his bright curls off his face and spotted her with a smirk. She came fully up to the window and he smiled even wider as they stared at each other. After a moment, he stood and looked down at her through the window, eyes shining orange and yellow in the candlelight as he spoke.

“Not to be cliché, love, but I’ve been waiting for you.”