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I dried my eyes and walked in. The atmosphere suited my mood perfectly. I took a seat and ordered a drink. The bartender could tell something was wrong, but she didn’t ask what. She returned to her friends at the edge of the bar. An old man with white hair and a beer belly put a Ray Charles song on the jukebox. I recalled the last time I heard it. I could feel myself on the verge again and quickly drank the remains of my whiskey. I put $10 down and left. I walked next door for my appointment. The smell of incense was strong. I headed to the back room and sat in the open chair across from him. He was a thin man with brown and gray hair; he looked older than he was. “Do you have any questions?” he asked and I realized that I didn’t. I told him what had just happened and how I found myself walking in his direction. He shuffled the cards and then closed his eyes. I thought, as he attempted to search for predictions, that he was a fraud and it was a waste of money to pay someone just to listen. He opened his eyes and looked at me. He said, “After everything you’ve been through, you can survive this…”


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