Page 47 of Until the Stars Fall

“You think so?”

“I do.”

I drank my water as I watched him shuffle and riffle the cards. He riffled them so many times I started counting.

“Is seven times really necessary?”

“Sure, if you want the cards to be completely randomized. It’s the Gilbert-Shannon-Reeds mathematical model of shuffling.” He placed the deck on the table. “Think about a question you have about your life.”

“That’s the problem. Right now, my whole life is a question.”

“Then try to narrow it down to one question, but don’t tell me.”

“Is this like a magician’s act?”

He faux-grimaced. “No. It gives a cleaner, less-biased reading. If I know what you’re asking about, I might try to address it directly, and that almost never gives you a creative solution or new way of thinking.”

I bit my lip, thinking, while he watched me expectantly. So many questions about my life plagued me, but the one that made the most sense to ask was how do I move forward?

“Okay. I have my question.”

“Ok. Now cut the deck.”

I grasped about a third of the cards and set them to the side.

He put the part of the deck I’d removed beneath the stack and pulled a card off the top, laying it face down on the table. “This is your past.” He laid two more face down after the first, in a row. “Your present, and your future.”

I studied the lines of his face beneath the beard. He and his magic cards might be crazy, but he was beautiful. And kind. And sexy. I wanted him to kiss me again.

He reached out to flip the first card over, but I put my hand on his to stop him. “You know I don’t believe in any of this, right?”

He chuckled. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.” His eyes twinkled. “May I proceed?”

I removed my hand. “Carry on.”

“Your past—” He flipped over the first card. “Five of swords.”

Three witches stood around a cauldron—typical pointy-black-hat witchy activity. One seemed quite proud of herself and immersed in the spell where five swords floated up from the bubbling cauldron. The other two looked upset, even devastated by what was happening. One was even crying.

I shrugged. “So...what does that mean?”

He tapped his finger on the card. “You’ve spent a lot of time and effort trying to be the best. Trying to be perfect. Better than everyone else”

“So you’re saying I’m a snob.” My tone was accusatory, but I smiled at him. Probably accurate, but I’m sure he figured that out about me the moment we’d met.

He grinned and narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s not what I meant.”

When he smiled at me, I didn’t want to look away. “Go on.”

He tapped the card. “And you worked so hard to get everything you had. You built the perfect—by all appearances—life: perfect career, all the perfect packaging.” His tone got softer. “But it was all a beautiful lie. You were so busy trying to build something to other people’s standards that you were blind to what was going on around you, even blind to what you truly wanted.”

I tried to keep a poker face. These were nearly all things I’d told him before.

His habitual smile was replaced with solemn eyes. “And it was all hollow, wasn’t it? Your life was a beautiful facade. You should have had everything you wanted, but it only led to sorrow. Loss.” He cocked his head to the side, considering me, looking so sad himself. “So much regret and pain. You didn’t just lose your job. You lost your whole future, at least the one you’d planned, and that’s what you’re mourning the most. That perfect, planned future.”

I couldn’t look at him. All I could see were those three witches on the card, swimming in the vision of my tears. I blinked, and a tear streaked down my face. I quickly wiped it away. “Sounds about right.”

He placed his hand over mine on the table, rubbing it gently with his thumb. “I didn’t mean to make you cry on your birthday. Are you alright? We don’t have to continue.”

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