Psychic Readings [ficlet]

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Marisa said, tugging on Jason’s sleeve.

“If you say so,” he muttered. The business sat in between a liquor store and a butcher’s shop. From the outside, one could see shelves full of ornamental bottles and a large fern. The scowling bust of a bald man sat on the reception desk. Jason wondered if it had been taken off of a mannequin. Without any hair, it looked strangely androgynous.

On the window was hung the neon sign: “PSYCHIC READINGS.” Jason wasn’t sure what hurt his eyes more, the capital letters or the glare of the white bulbs.

Marisa was at the door now. Jason looked longingly after their departing taxi cab, wondering how mad she would get at him if he decided to hightail it out of there.

Probably mad enough for him to have to sleep on the couch. And he hated sleeping on the couch. Envisioning the possibility of a sex-less future ahead of him, Jason squared his shoulders and followed after Marisa. He didn’t need a psychic to tell him not to incur the wrath of his girlfriend.

0 comment(s):