on geary there is a palm-reading tarot-reading place. you know the kind: neon signs in the window, all are welcome. the bus slowed to a squeaky stop and naturally, i peered inside the storefront.
there stood a middle-aged woman behind a chair, the only piece of furniture in the space. her hands were resting on its back, as if interrupted while smoothing the worn upholstery. she looked out at me. i looked in at her.
seconds passed. the bus moved.