Miss Amina The Tarot Reader free porn video

MISS AMINA THE TAROT READER By Audrey [email protected] (C) 2016 June 15 All Rights Reserved AUTHOR'S NOTE: Permission is granted to post this story on any free archive for transgender or transformation stories, such as Fictionmania. This story contains adult material that is not suitable for young audiences. It also contains themes that some readers may find sensitive, including alcoholism, depression, and suicide. Please bear these in mind before reading. This is also a long story, at just over 70,000 words. Feedback is most welcome and appreciated. I hope you all find the story engaging and inspiring. Enjoy! DEDICATION: This story is dedicated to Annie, who tragically took her own life some years ago. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I would like to take this opportunity to thank the many authors who have inspired me over the years with their beautiful stories: Jennifer Lorissa-Leigh for "Sheena," Laura Leigh for "Charissa," Waldo for "Swamp," Diane TV for "Spellbound," Diane Christy and ABCdeF for "Sisters of Athernia," Softly Susan for "Gift of the Goddess," Filthy Mind for "Oliver Clothes," Romances Key for "Wishes Power," Stephanie Marie for "Loving Change," SubS for "Normal," Patricia for "Becoming a Dream," Amber Smithe for "Midnight Kiss," and countless more talented writers. PLOT SYNOPSIS: Andrew Silverton is a typical New York bachelor until he gets a tarot reading as a birthday gift from his twin sister. After meeting the mysterious tarot reader Miss Amina, Andrew begins a journey of personal discovery and soon finds his mind, body, and spirit will never be the same again. TABLE OF CONTENTS: PROLOGUE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [PRLG] CHAPTER 1 - THE BIRTHDAY GIFT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH01] CHAPTER 2 - DEATH AND JUDGEMENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH02] CHAPTER 3 - THE FORTUNE COOKIE . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH03] CHAPTER 4 - THE HARP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH04] CHAPTER 5 - TIT, SLIT, AND CLIT . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH05] CHAPTER 6 - MYSTERIOUS PRESENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH06] CHAPTER 7 - NOBLE STRENGTH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CHO7] CHAPTER 8 - MY DARKEST HOUR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH08] CHAPTER 9 - ONE OF THE GIRLS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH09] CHAPTER 10 - THE COCKTAIL PARTY . . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH10] CHAPTER 11 - AMINA AND THE ANIMA . . . . . . . . . . . . [CH11] EPILOGUE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [EPLG] **** PROLOGUE [PRLG] "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, it is a great honor to introduce our special guest speaker tonight: Dr. Audrey Anne Silverton. She is considered by many to be the world's leading authority on gender studies. We are very honored to welcome her back to Columbia University." A roar of applause erupted from the auditorium as the announcer finished his introductions. I nervously stood up from my seat in the first row. I was never good at public speaking, but here I was, about to speak in front of what must be hundreds of people. I had been invited by the psychology department at the University to give a lecture to some students and faculty about gender issues facing our society today. Even though I had a lot of wisdom and experience to share, I was suddenly very self-conscious. While I walked onstage, I was mindful of a dozen things at once, from the clicking of my heels on the floor and the fluid movement of my dress across my legs to the many eyes watching my every step and the growing excitement in the room. Taking a deep breath and smoothing out my outfit, I approached the lectern at the front of the auditorium. "Thank you so much, everyone!" I said into the microphone. The din from the applause gradually died down. I was very apprehensive even though I had spent hours mentally and physically preparing for this talk, from the outfit I would wear to the topics I wanted to address. I really wish I didn't get so anxious about public speaking, and I was sure it must be obvious to the people in the front rows. I decided that I would invite the audience to ask me questions and I would answer them as best I could. "I'm Dr. Audrey Silverton. Thanks for your warm welcome. I know you're expecting a talk about gender tonight. But actually, I would like have a question and answer dialogue with you all instead. I think that's the best way I can share with you all." This would be easier on my already tense nerves, and I started to relax a bit. About ten or fifteen hands shot up in the air as soon as I looked up, with another ten hands tentatively coming up a few moments later. I was happy so many people had questions for me, but I knew there was no way I could call on everyone. I surveyed the audience, trying to decide who would be the lucky one I would call on first. My eyes were drawn to a thoughtful-looking man about halfway back on the left side of the auditorium. I'm not sure why, but I thought it was interesting that he wore a deep purple shirt with a pink paisley-print tie. The colors were not unlike many of the dresses that the women wore tonight. I pointed to him and said, "You, in the purple shirt. Go ahead." "Dr. Silverton, what inspired you to write your latest book?" Mercifully, the first question proved to be an easy one. "Thank you, good question. You see, I had been reflecting on someone who was once very close to me, until suddenly one day he was gone. It deeply affected me. I felt that writing the book would be a tribute to his memory and honor." I know my answer was purposely vague, but I hoped he would understand that it was a sensitive topic for me. Looking at the man again, though, I could tell he hadn't asked what he really wanted to, so I gave him a second opportunity. "Did you have another question?" "Yes, I have just one more question. Dr. Silverton, is it true that you were once a man? I mean, it sounds so unbelievable. I was hoping you might share a little about that with us here tonight." Oh wow, what a follow-up question! How could he possibly have known that? I figured he must have read the acknowledgements at the beginning of my book and read between the lines. Yes, as unbelievable as it sounded, it was totally true that I was once a man named Andrew Silverton. A few years ago, I would have been completely mortified that anyone would even ask such a thing about me. But today, I was mentally prepared for his question, and finally I felt ready to tell my incredible story to the public for the very first time. Nervously, I looked out over the crowd again, wishfully hoping someone else would ask a different question that would be a lot less nerve-wracking. But their eyes were all riveted on me, eagerly awaiting my reply and hopeful that I would share my story, the fantastic tale of Dr. Audrey Silverton. I looked at the front row of the audience, making eye contact with the two women sitting just in front of the stage. Each of them had knowing, reassuring smiles on their faces, encouraging me to discover my courage and follow my heart. Just then I caught sight of another familiar face out of the corner of my eye, a woman standing towards the back of the auditorium. Recognizing her immediately, I knew that I could do it, and I decided that now was definitely the right time to tell my story. I took in another deep breath, regained my composure, and began to share. "Yes, it's true that I was originally a man." An awed hush filled the room, waiting for my next words with bated breath. My eyes caught the sapphire blue eyes of the woman in the back of the room, and I found my confidence. I looked down at the jewelry I wore around my neck, remembered who had given it to me and what it represented, and I knew I was ready. With that, I started to share. "Well, it all started about six years ago..." **** CHAPTER 1: THE BIRTHDAY GIFT [CH01] SO WHERE SHOULD I BEGIN my story? I suppose the best place would be around my thirtieth birthday, I guess six years ago now. It was a muggy Friday night in June in Manhattan, I remember it very clearly. And actually, it wasn't only my birthday - I shared it with my twin sister, Ashley. Looking back, there was no way I could have known then that my life would change so dramatically after that birthday. But that's how things go sometimes, as fate would soon teach me. Ashley and I grew up in upstate New York. Our parents were both from the area originally, and they owned a cabin situated on one of the Finger Lakes near Ithaca. They also managed a highly successful local restaurant and bed-and-breakfast, as they had for many years. Their own parents had also grown up in the region, and so it had been for several generations. As a result, my sister and I had a fairly quiet upbringing in the countryside with a fairly close-knit extended family. Ashley and I spent a lot of time together growing up, as there weren't a whole lot of other young people in the surrounding communities. We shared nearly everything from toys and books to classes and field trips. There were also the summer road trips to any number of destinations, anywhere from as close as Niagara Falls to as far away as southern Florida. You can imagine what a shock it was to the whole family when Ashley and I moved away for college about twelve years ago. Our parents had hoped that we would attend a school closer to home and probably wanted us to go to nearby Cornell University. But, our choice to move was motivated not just by a desire to experience the larger world outside a small town, but also by the schools we were accepted to. I had decided on a path through Columbia University's School of Business that would let me pursue my love of mathematical and logical puzzles. Ashley, on the other hand, had chosen a nearly opposite path at New York University and was now a social worker helping troubled kids in the public schools across the City, mostly in the Bronx. I always admired what she did for a living, but I found that I related much better to numbers and formulas than to people and their social problems. The other thing was that I considered myself a bit of a loner and introvert, while Ashley was always more outgoing and extroverted. Both our temperaments suited our respective professions quite well. Ashley and I had drifted apart after moving away from home to the City for college. Even though we both lived in within an hour's subway ride of one another, we really didn't spend a lot of time together anymore as we had when we were younger. As adults, Ashley and I rarely saw eye-to- eye on anything. It felt like every time we saw enough other it managed to find a way to argue. Strangely enough, though, the one thing we agreed on in the last year was where to celebrate our birthdays. We picked out a wine bar in the East Village called Terroir where we would meet up and have a few drinks together. We both were kind of wine snobs, so an upscale place like Terroir was perfect for the occasion. Plus, the location was about halfway between my apartment on the Upper East Side and Ashley's place out in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn. Privately, though, I was relieved that Ashley was willing to come to Manhattan, as I really never enjoyed traveling out to Brooklyn. I always felt out of my element there. Ever since moving to the City, I've always been a Manhattan guy, and I probably always would be. I hated suburbia with a passion that was hard to put into words, and even Brooklyn felt like that to me sometimes. But tonight, I wanted to put any negativity aside and hoped to enjoy the opportunity to see my sister. This was the thought I had in mind when I walked up to Terroir's doorstep. Ashley had made it to the wine bar before I did. She must've finished up early at work that day. She was sitting at the bar chatting up the bartender when I arrived. I walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Happy Birthday, Ashley!" I said, trying to sound as excited to see her as I could. On hearing my voice, Ashley quickly turned around and saw me standing beside her chair. She had a wide smile on her face. "Happy Birthday, Andrew! It's so nice to see you again!" She stood up to hug me. While I basked in her embrace for a brief moment, I remembered that not everything between my sister and I had been tense and marked by conflict. In fact, most recently she and I bonded and came together after our parents were involved in a somewhat serious car accident during a severe snowstorm upstate last winter. We both took time away from work to help them, and thankfully, they both survived and made full recoveries from their injuries. Ashley and I hadn't been closer since we were much younger and living with them upstate. So, tonight was one of those rare moments of intimacy for my sister and I. "So, how are you, anyway?" Ashley asked. "Oh, I've been fine, I guess," I lied. Truthfully, I hadn't been all that great. I was just off of a long string of bad first dates, and on top of that, I recently fought off a rather nasty bout of stomach flu that had knocked me down for a few days the previous weekend. My mood was sort of down too, but I kept that under tight wraps. In fact, one of my deepest secrets was that I often struggled with sadness, sometimes for no reason. But I never really told anyone about it. I might have died if anyone found out! So naturally I put my best face forward so that I could try to have a fun night out with Ashley for our birthdays. "How've you been?" I asked her. "I'm great!" my sister exclaimed, her face beaming. "Really great, actually." Ashley was always in an upbeat mood, and it was usually infectious. Her colorful outfit choices also reflected her inner mood, and the soft yellow blazer and skirt combination she wore today were no exception. My sister was also a fairly attractive young lady too, with long flowing brunette hair and an athletic yet feminine build. It always surprised me whenever my sister told me she was still single. Any guy would be very lucky to have a girl like her. Anyway, I got the feeling that Ashley could read between the lines and knew that I hadn't been forthcoming with her about how I was really feeling. She was correct too, as I was usually a bit preoccupied and generally a bit pessimistic. It was a talent I'm sure came in very useful in her career in social work, and even more so with the kids and families she worked with who had fallen upon tough times. Not surprisingly, my sister tended to keep close tabs on me by calling and catching up often, and I think she had a pretty good idea that I struggled with depression from time to time. Nevertheless, my sister looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Smile, Andrew! It's our birthday! Lighten up a little, would you?" I couldn't help but smile at Ashley's words. She was correct again, I should put my troubles aside for the moment and enjoy myself. "What should we drink?" After the long and draining workweek, I was definitely in need of a drink. I knew this seemingly simple question would prove to be a very challenging one for two wine aficionados like my sister and I. We perused the wine list, each offering a suggestion of which bottle to get but trying to one-up each other by picking something even better. Finally, by the end, we agreed on an aged Riesling from Alsace. Not only was it a rare treat and an ideal choice for a muggy summer evening, but Terroir was also holding its annual event called 'Summer of Riesling' so it was even on a special price. The bartender brought the bottle, uncorked it for us, and poured two glasses. "Cheers to thirty years!" I said, unintentionally rhyming my toast and raising my glass. "Cheers!" Ashley responded, clinking her glass against mine. While Ashley and I didn't generally like to exchange gifts, we decided to go for it this year for a change of pace. I went first, giving Ashley the gift bag I had carried with me into the bar. I was giving her a bottle of 2000 Chateau Margaux, slightly jealous that I was giving her something I seriously hoped to be drinking myself. I secretly hoped she would invite me to enjoy it with her someday. "Happy Birthday," I said, giving her the gift. Ashley peeked inside and pulled out the bottle. On seeing the label, her eyes visibly widened and she exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, Andrew, you didn't have to get this for me!" "Oh, it's no big deal," I minimized. "It's just a first-growth Bordeaux." My comment caught the bartender's attention, and he gave me a scornful look. Ashley, however, rolled her eyes, knowing that 'first-growth Bordeaux' and 'no big deal' didn't really belong in the same sentence. As she inspected the bottle more closely, I think my sister sensed that I'd taken a bit of a shortcut by getting her gift on my way over to the wine bar that night. "Say, wait a minute, you didn't just buy this from that fancy wine place over by where you work, did you?" I thought about lying, but Ashley's intuition was a force to reckon with so I thought better of it and confessed. "Yeah, but it's a really good Bordeaux! Hold onto it for a while and it'll be truly great." She just smiled at me. "I'm just messing with you, because you make it so fun by overreacting all the time." Ashley teased. She then pulled something shiny out of her purse and offered it to me. "Here's your gift, brother. I hope you like it!" On closer inspection, I found that the shiny item was actually some sort of card inside a silver envelope. I noted that the letter "A" had been embossed on its surface, but I couldn't recognize where it might have come from. I opened the envelope and pulled out an intricately decorated card. There was a bright, multicolored design on the front that someone had obviously taken great care to hand-paint on it. The design was shaped like a five-pointed star inscribed inside a larger circle. I was strangely drawn to the artwork. I studied it carefully and thought that I might have seen it somewhere else before. But I couldn't quite place it either. Inside the card, Ashley had written a short message: 'Just for you, brother - I thought you might enjoy this. Love you!' There was a gift certificate tucked in there, on similarly silvery paper. It was good for one psychic tarot reading from Miss Amina Capella. I looked up and gave my sister a skeptical sigh. She knew that I had no interest at all in anything like tarot cards. Expressing my shock at her gift idea, I took a big swallow of wine and said, "Are you kidding me, Ashley?" Ashley was laughing. "Oh, just play along for once, Andrew! You always take things way too seriously." And she was right about that. I often thought of myself as a pretty serious guy. I tried to paint Ashley into the corner with her remark. "But I am serious. Don't you always say I should just be myself?" Ashley dismissed me. "Oh, please! Just give it a chance." I eyed my sister like she was crazy for expecting me to go along willingly with her idea. Despite my incredulity, I looked more closely at the card anyway. I read the few details that there were on the card: 'Let the Tarot be your spirit guide on your journey of self-discovery, exploration, and transformation.' Yeah, whatever. I had my hunch that this gift had come right out of the fringes of good New York society, exactly the type of crowd that my sister and her friends liked to hang around with. Sure enough, the card informed me that Miss Amina had her operation in the heart of Williamsburg, out in Brooklyn. "Honestly, Ashley! You know I think that stuff is just bullshit?" I suppose I should have held back that comment, knowing that my sister strongly believed that the cards had mystical powers and she treated them with a great deal of seriousness. I had no idea how anyone could put so much stock into something that basically amounts to elaborate, imaginative storytelling for highly suggestible people with absolutely no basis in reality. Ashley made a strained face, but thankfully it seemed like she took it all in stride. "Well, just try it, just this once. I know Amina, and she's an excellent reader. Keep an open mind for once in your life. Not everything can be mathematical like all that accounting mumbo-jumbo you do every day at work. And, you should know, Sam helped me pick out your gift!" I audibly groaned. Samantha, or Sam as Ashley liked to call her, was one of my sister's closest friends. Along with several of her other friends, they were all interested in basically every new age thing on the planet. It was nearly impossible to talk to any of them without one of them bringing up astrology, palm reading, crystal healing, or whatever else at some point. I didn't even pretend to understand why any of them were so enthralled by it all. Secretly, I was glad that neither Samantha nor any of the others could join us at the wine bar tonight, or else I might spend my birthday night surrounded by all of their craziness. I was sure at least one of them would foretell some far-fetched tale of woe in my near future, and I wasn't in any mood to hear it either. But at least Ashley was the most sympathetic of the three of them when it came to my lack of belief in any of it. Unfortunately, she wasn't going to cut me any slack this time around. I tried to plead my case. "Please, do I really have to?" Ashley stood firm. "Just do it for me, Andrew. If you do it, just this once, I promise I'll never ask you ever again." "I'm going to hold you to that!" I said warily. And I would be absolutely sure she wouldn't forget about her promise. If it went badly, I knew I could give my sister a hard time about it for years to come, and I would have a solid answer if she tried to get me involved in her new age nonsense ever again. Ashley stayed at the bar to finish our bottle of wine. We talked a bit about work, and I gave her a heads-up about an upcoming business trip to San Francisco. While I traveled fairly often for work, this time was especially exciting because it was the first time I would go to the West Coast to do so. I'd never been to California before so I was looking forward to some touristy things like seeing the Golden Gate Bridge and taking a short trip out to the Napa Valley wine country. Ashley was also at a high point in her career. She told me she was just finishing up all of her clinical hours and supervision, and soon she would be able to take the licensure exam. She had told me about many late nights seeing families, and about how harrowing it could be to navigate her way back home after dark in some of the neighborhoods where she made home visits. I was happy for Ashley and her success. While a lot of things in my life weren't going so well, my job stood out as a bright spot and I was glad to share that with my sister. "Well, Andrew, I've got to take off. It was so good to see you. Have a great trip, and Happy Birthday!" She kissed me lightly on the cheek as she stood up to leave. But before walking out, she left me with a little parting advice. "Don't drink too much." "I won't," I reassured her. Ashley had become a little worried about my tendency to go overboard on the drinks during the weekend. At one point she had even suggested I had a problem with alcohol too. But against her better advice, I decided to stay out for a while after Ashley left the wine bar, and ordered another glass of wine. I'd been single for quite some time and was hoping to get lucky by meeting a cute girl. While I definitely liked my own space and was comfortable being by myself to some degree, I really did want to meet someone. I felt pretty hopeful about my chances at the moment too. I liked to think of myself as the typical Upper East Side perpetually eligible bachelor. I lived in your basic overpriced one-bedroom apartment east of Lexington Avenue in the upper 80's, and I had your usual Monday to Friday financial consulting job in lower Manhattan. I liked to think I was above average in terms of my lot in life. In a way, though, I found my regular Monday through Friday routine somewhat comforting. It was nice to have the security and stability of a well-paying job, and one that was generally always predictable too. On rare occasion, I found myself wondering what might happen if some big event happened that shook up my life. But I wasn't the type of guy that sought out adventure or thrills just for the sake of doing it and later telling the story. No, my life was basically perfectly fine the way it was right now, thank you very much. But I had never really been too successful with women. That would definitely be the one thing I wanted to change. I mean, I thought I was attractive and all, but often I wondered whether I even understood women at all. Recently, I decided to try out some online dating websites. Most of the time, though, I found that the profiles I read online weren't really an accurate reflection of the women I met in person, and the long conversations I'd had over the Internet usually fizzled out face-to- face. I wasn't sure what to make of it, so I ended up closing down all of my accounts. Being set up by friends had also never ended well either, plus there were no secrets whenever something went badly. Of course, I had also tried picking up women in bars, but usually I ended up drinking too much for that to be a reliable way to meet people. On top of that, I was often too shy to approach them and too afraid of the likely rejection that would occur if I tried. So, I often took a seat on one corner of the bar and watched the scene unfold in front of me, as guy after guy would take their turn trying to pick up the hottest girl in the place. Most of them would go home alone, but once in a while I saw someone claim what I often thought of as the 'grand prize' as he got to take the girl home with him. Secretly, I dreamed of being that guy someday. And so it was that Friday night. Not long after Ashley left the bar, a pretty twenty-something brunette woman came in to take the seat that my sister had left. I checked her out for a moment, and saw that she was wearing a vibrant purple mini-dress that showed off all of her femininity by hugging every perfect curve. Her cleavage peeked out from the lacy camisole at the top of the dress, and the skirt was so tight and short that one false move would let me get a glimpse of her panties underneath. But she crossed her legs, preventing any chance of that, but instead letting me see her impressively high stiletto heels. This woman was intensely sexy, and she was dressed exactly the way I loved to see women dress. When I caught scent of the perfume she wore, I felt my penis immediately respond. I cleared my throat and took my chances by striking up a conversation. The slimmest chance of success was worth the likely risk of failure. "So, how's it going?" I asked her. "Can I buy you a drink?" She looked at me but said nothing. I had no sooner asked the question when a handsome-looking man stepped up behind her, kissed her on the lips, and greeted her with "Hello, my love." He was obviously the woman's husband or boyfriend. I should have known that someone as stunningly gorgeous as her would already be in a relationship. I quickly finished my wine and left the bar to head home, feeling utterly defeated. Saturday and Sunday evening were no different. I went to two different spots closer to home on the Upper East Side, one of which was my favorite place to go get drinks. The bartender there knew me very well, beyond just my favorite drink. He knew all about my woes with women, and tonight he saw one of them reject me before his very eyes. While it was sometimes nice to talk up the bartender for a while, I wasn't really in the mood for it this time. I settled my tab and made my way back to my apartment, trying to hold back the tears that had been welling up gradually all weekend long. I succeeded in keeping them at bay, telling myself that real men don't cry no matter what happens to them. By Monday morning, my three unsuccessful and depressing nights trying to find a date had taken an emotional toll on me. I was drained and depressed, not to mention a little hung over from all the drinks I'd had. I should have heeded Ashley's words when she had cautioned me about not drinking too much. Sometimes, I wondered if I really did have a problem with alcohol. In truth, though, I think I had a bigger problem with depression than with alcohol. My moods often seemed down, perhaps a lot more than they should be for someone in my circumstances. Once or twice, Ashley had suggested that I might benefit from getting some professional help with my moods, to which I'd taken great offense. She and I had a falling out over this a while back. I always saw myself as a really resilient person, capable of overcoming any adversity without outside assistance. I tended to think of my difficulties as purely situational, like my rejection by women that weekend. If that was the case, then why take elaborate measures like psychotherapy or medication? Regardless of my insistence that my mood was fine, the hangover pulled me down especially hard that morning though. I was dreading my return to work. However, despite my current physical and emotional state, there were actually a lot of aspects to my job that I liked. It was an opportunity for me to put my math, logic, and problem solving skills to good use to help others manage their money in the smartest way possible, I got to travel to a lot of different places on work business, and I generally liked all of the people I worked with. It was also a quick commute on the express train. But one of the best things, though, happened every day when I first walked into the office: catching a glimpse of my company's office secretary, Denise. Denise was a young, tall, fiery redhead with a curvaceous figure that she always showed off to the fullest extent. On this particular Monday morning, she was wearing a shimmery magenta top that could've caught my attention from a hundred miles away. The blouse was low-cut, accentuating her generous chest. Her houndstooth-patterned straight skirt let her incredible legs peek out tastefully from her knees down to her high-heeled feet. Our office culture demanded a certain level of formality in our dress code. We all sort of learned to live with it. But Denise always managed to find an impeccable balance of sensible professionalism and womanly sensuality in all her outfits. And, in my opinion, she was always very sexy, and I had a thing for her, like most guys probably did. I often wondered if she knew it. The brilliant color of Denise's blouse was a stark contrast to the dull, drab navy blue jacket and slacks I'd worn today. My white pinstripe shirt and standard, nothing-too-bold office tie were similarly ordinary. As I came in the door, Denise greeted me with her cheerful smile and bubbly voice: "Good morning, Andrew!" Even though it was Monday and I was coming off of a weekend filled with quite a lot of drinking, seeing Denise was easily the best cure for a hangover ever. My grogginess dissipated within seconds. "Good morning, Denise," I replied. "Did you have a nice weekend?" "It was great! My boyfriend and I just celebrated our one year anniversary. See what he got for me?" She directed my attention to a jeweled, heart-shaped necklace around her graceful neck. Denise's boyfriend must have been the luckiest guy in all of New York City. What I wouldn't have done to take his place for even a day. For the longest time I'd always been attracted to intensely feminine girls like Denise. Mentally I imagined her naked for a split second, her sexy body exposed in all its womanly glory. But the mention of a boyfriend also brought a twinge of sadness too. Denise's voice brought me back to reality, cutting my little fantasy short. "How was your birthday celebration with Ashley?" she asked. "Oh, it was fun." Denise was always good at remembering everyone's birthdays and the names of all the people closest to them. She had actually met Ashley at a holiday party back in December. I continued, "We celebrated it at a wine place in the East Village." I decided to leave out all the parts about hanging out in the bars and being rejected by women all weekend long. I didn't really want Denise or anyone else learning about that side of my life. "Ooh, did you guys go to Terroir? I heard it's a really cool place." "Yep, that's where we went," I confirmed. That was the other thing that Denise was really good at, knowing all the best places to go in the City. I could always count on her for sound advice on the coolest places to go. In my mind, I guessed she was the type that went out all the time, probably with her boyfriend or her many girlfriends. The way Denise smiled all the time, I imagined she truly loved her life. "Cool, hope you all had a great time!" Denise said brightly. "You feeling ready for the conference later this week?" "Yeah, I've got a lot to do before that, so I should get on it. Good talking with you!" I turned and walked back towards my office. "I'll see you around, Andrew!" Denise whirled around in her chair and answered an incoming phone call. As fun as it was to flirt with Denise first thing on a Monday morning, I had a full week ahead of me, especially because I was leaving on Thursday morning for San Francisco. But before that, I had about a million other loose ends to tie up at the office. Plus, the company's boss, Mr. Swanson, had high expectations for the conference and had picked me to represent the company there. It was simultaneously a big honor and a big responsibility, so I didn't want to fail him by being unprepared. I had a meeting with him on Wednesday morning to discuss what I'd be talking about while I was at the conference. My topic would be strategic planning for an unpredictable economy. I knew a lot about the subject, but I hated public speaking, so I was a little nervous about it in spite of that. Now, to most people, I'm sure that my line of work would be excruciatingly boring. Indeed, I had always noticed how the math and economics classes dwindled in size the further I pursued my career path. But for me, working with data and extrapolating theories and interpretation from them was a lot of fun, and I was actually pretty good at it as I'd anticipated several recent trends and had been able to position our firm ideally to capitalize on them. I also found it so much easier to work with abstract ideas than with people. Maybe it was my difficulties connecting with women, or maybe it was my introverted nature. But whatever it was, this upcoming conference would prove to be my best chance yet at a big promotion and a huge cash bonus. If I impressed Mr. Swanson enough, I might be looking at a corner office of my own someday. I fantasized about the possibility for a moment as I got started on my Power Point slides for the conference. By noon that day, though, I was so engrossed in my work that I'd all but forgotten about the troubles of the weekend. That was a good thing, in my opinion. I didn't need any more distractions to make my mind wander anyway. When Denise came around to take the lunch orders for the office staff, I managed my first true smile since I hung out with Ashley on Friday night, and my mood started to improve a bit. I watched as Denise wiggled away, her shapely ass in full gear as she went. I was now squarely back in the familiar groove of my career, and in this moment, that was perfectly okay with me. **** CHAPTER 2: DEATH AND JUDGEMENT [CH02] THE START OF THE WORKWEEK proved much more uplifting than the rather depressing weekend that preceded it. First of all, the preparations for my role in the upcoming conference in San Francisco were coming together nicely. My big meeting with Mr. Swanson had exceeded both his and my expectations, and I felt more prepared than ever for my presentation. On top of that, I'd just learned that my return flight had been rescheduled to Sunday. It meant I'd have a full extra day in San Francisco on Saturday so that I could actually have a little fun while I was there. And, of course, my daily flirtation with Denise always brightened my mood. On Wednesday evening, the night before my flight to San Francisco, I decided to come by Miss Amina's shop for my tarot reading. It was a bit on a whim, but my mood was in the right place for it. I also hoped it might distract me a bit from my growing apprehension over flying. One of my little secrets is that I'm a terribly anxious flyer. I remembered that Ashley had suggested that I could just drop in and see Miss Amina without making an appointment. Even though I felt a little weird about coming unannounced, I would have felt much weirder calling her because I really didn't know her in the same way that Ashley did. Not only that, but I still couldn't hide the fact that I didn't want to go. But I'd learned my lessons about procrastination while I was in college, so I wasn't going to put off something that was basically inevitable. How bad could it possibly be? After all, there were psychic readings at nearly every corner in Midtown and anywhere else tourists went in New York City. There were never really any bad stories coming out of them, other than that they were notoriously ripoffs. I imagined Miss Amina's shop was in that vein. I stepped off of the ridiculously crowded J train at the Marcy Avenue station and surveyed my surroundings. Sure enough, I was surrounded by hipsters of every kind: arm-covering tattoos here, dreadlocks there. I inwardly cringed and tried to make myself seem smaller and more inconspicuous, which was really not easy because I stuck out like a sore thumb in this Brooklyn crowd, especially in my stuffy clothes. I was going to really give Ashley a hard time about making me come out here. She surely knew how far out of my comfort zone this whole ordeal would take me. I hated being out of my element, and my sister constantly tried to push me to try new things. I walked past several restaurants and stores that I was sure hadn't been there just a few months before. Williamsburg used to be mostly abandoned warehouses and dilapidated old apartment buildings, but all of those seemed to have vanished over the last decade. So this was what gentrification was supposed to be all about? It was absurd. I was happy to be settled in my place on the Upper East Side and no part of this scene. At least I could eat a good steak at Peter Luger the end of the whole thing. That was probably the only reason that decent people would be out in Williamsburg anyway. Was I being a bit judgmental? I suppose so. But I couldn't hide the fact that I was ready to turn around, forget the whole thing, get back on the train, and head home. However, I had made a promise to Ashley, so I was fully committed to this tarot reading with Miss Amina, even if I really didn't want to go. If there's one thing I'll never do, it's reneging on a promise to anyone, especially anyone in my family. I prided myself on this, and I would keep my word to my sister come hell or high water. I knew that she would do the same thing for me if I'd ever asked her to make a promise. With that thought in mind, I checked my iPhone to verify the address. Rounding the corner, I saw a narrow side street lined with typical Brooklyn-style row houses. I figured that Miss Amina must run her business out of her own home. Hey, at least that was something I found respectable. Maybe she would turn out to be okay. After all, anyone running their own business in this economy was surely worthy of respect. My gut was usually correct about these things. As I approached the address, I saw a small wooden sign attached to the gate instructing anyone looking for Miss Amina Capella to come through the gate and head for the doorway under the front steps. This must be the place, I mused. I did as the sign instructed and went downstairs. With a deep breath, I grabbed the doorknob and stepped over the threshold. A small bell chimed as I opened the door to Miss Amina's shop. Coming inside slowly, I scanned the shelves inside her shop. Just inside the front door, I saw a glass display case holding jewelry and other valuable-looking items. I inspected a few of the pieces closely and saw lockets and rings of different colors and designs. My eyes were drawn to a silver one off to the side etched with an intricate design. On top of the case, there were a few tarot decks sitting out that one could look through. On the opposite wall, there was a small bookcase featuring books with obscure-sounding titles such as "Connecting with the Qabalah," "The Heart and Soul of the Tarot," and "Cirlot's Dictionary of Symbols." It didn't take me long to realize that I was in way over my head. There were actually entire books written about these silly subjects? And there were people who actually bought them and read them, or even took them seriously? It was crazy. A tiny voice inside my head begged me to turn around and leave, but I stayed put, determined to get the whole ordeal over with as quickly as possible. The bell's chime had altered Miss Amina to my presence. After a few moments, she stepped into the room from behind a midnight blue curtain at the back of the shop. At first glance, she looked to be a woman of about middle age. She was a very short, petite woman, and I towered over her at six feet tall. It was hard to tell much else about her, though, for she wore a long, flowing dress in a deep blue color that covered her entire body. She had very long, very dark wavy hair that reached over halfway down to her waist. "Hello, Andrew," she said pleasantly. "Welcome. I've been expecting you." Miss Amina stared at me intently, with a piercing, unflinching gaze that I found a little unnerving. Her eyes were a very deep blue, almost like sapphires, and they seemed to look inside of me. "Uh, hi," I said uncertainly. I wondered how she knew my name, but I figured that Ashley had told her ahead of time that the gift was for me. Besides, there were probably very few men who would voluntarily wander into a shop like this one. "I imagine you are here for your tarot reading. Your sister came here a few days ago with her friends," she elaborated, as though reading my mind about what I was thinking. "Please, follow me." She motioned for me to come with her into the back of the shop. Not knowing what to expect, I followed her, unaware of what awaited me beyond the curtain. She led me into the back room, which appeared to be where she did her tarot readings. The light level was very dim, and the walls were painted with a deep purple color. The flickering light from several candles danced on the walls, and the air smelled strongly of recently burned incense. The room was completely quiet and still too, something quite rare here in New York City. There were still places where you couldn't hear the constant din of traffic and street chatter? The whole effect was almost overwhelming, but it had an impressive mystical quality to it. I assumed that this was part of the whole experience, to bring more to the tarot reading than just the cards themselves. "Please, sit down." She invited me to sit down at the table, which was covered with a deep red mat with two similarly colored chairs beside it. I did as she requested, and she sat down across from me. Her politeness was telling. "Tell me, Andrew, what do you know about the Tarot already?" "Well, I don't know much of anything really. My sister Ashley is much more into stuff like this than I am. I'm here because she really wanted me to go. And I really don't know what to expect." Miss Amina nodded her understanding. "I see. Well, as long as you don't feel that the Tarot is demonic or anything like that." "No, nothing like that," I stated. As an atheist, I didn't believe in demons, or gods either for that matter. Miss Amina nodded again. "Okay, good. Andrew, the Tarot is basically a collection of seventy-eight cards that can tell an infinite number of stories. The seeker, you in this case, draws cards that weave together a narrative told in the images on the cards and the symbolism associated with those images. The tarot can inspire, teach, transform, illuminate, and fascinate all at the same time." She seemed almost giddy when she described all of this, her speech becoming much more animated than it was just moments before. "I see," I said, mildly intrigued by what I'd just heard. It was a little hard to believe a little deck of cards could be capable of all these things. But what if she was right? I tried to keep an open mind, as Ashley had encouraged me to do. Miss Amina then directed my attention to the stack of slightly large cards covered with green and white geometric designs on their backs. "This is the Robin Wood deck," she explained. "She's the artist of this deck. She uses colored pencil drawings, and she explores the Tarot's themes and ideas with pagan imagery and symbols." She fanned out the cards so I could see the images on several of them. The topmost card featured what appeared to be a naked couple, another looked like some sort of clown, and others showed people involved in various things. None of them seemed to mean anything. "Oh, okay," I yawned, only half listening to what she was saying. The nude image had caught my attention briefly, but my mind was soon back on the steak that awaited me later on, and how I was looking forward to returning home so I could get some much-needed sleep. I also imagined Denise in her red-hot outfit from earlier that morning. My concentration was definitely not up to the task of the tarot reading. She cleared her throat as though trying to be sure I didn't doze off. "Okay, so let me explain how this works. For first-time seekers, I like to do a simple three card reading. Take the cards, mix them up in any way you wish. Try to focus your energy into the cards as you handle them, and let your true self come out." I looked at Miss Amina quizzically. Put my energy into the cards? I didn't feel I had any energy, as it was the end of a long work day. Let my true self come out? I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Tentatively, I took the cards and began to shuffle them like I might a regular pack of cards. I shuffled the deck four or five times and left the tarot deck in a neat stack on the table. I indicated to her I was finished. "Now, cut the deck three times and take the top card each time and set it aside, face down." Once again I did as I was asked. I still had no clue what any of these little rituals meant, but here I was, participating in a tarot reading with no real idea what I was doing or why I was doing it. At least I could humor Ashley later. I cut the cards at varying depths and laid out the three cards. When I was done, I straightened up the remaining cards and moved them to one side. "Okay, Andrew. Each of these three cards will come together to compose a story about your life in the present moment." She pointed to the card at my left. "The first card here represents you, the second card represents your situation, and the third card represents your challenge. Whenever you're ready, you can turn over the first card and we can begin." Her descriptions of the positions seemed somewhat reasonable, almost logical in a way. What sort of story was I about to hear about myself? I remembered all the times my sister and her friends talked about their own tarot readings. They had a flair for the dramatic and often exaggerated their storytelling with fantastical tales about facing hardship, overcoming obstacles, and so forth. I, however, was thinking it might just tell the literal story of me right now: tired, hungry, and a little bored. Maybe if I played along with Miss Amina just a bit, the tarot reading would be over with quicker than I thought, and I could be on my way to dinner and home in no time flat. With a shrug, I turned over the first card. It read "The High Priestess." It showed a young woman with long, dark flowing hair and an equally long, dark flowing gown, not unlike Miss Amina's own hair and dress. The woman held an open book in one hand and a crystal ball in the other, and she was standing outside under the full moon and a partly cloudy sky in what looked like some sort of forest. This card was supposed to represent me? My gut reaction was that this person looked absolutely nothing like me at all. If anything, she looked a lot more like Miss Amina! I wanted to pull away already. Miss Amina, on the other hand, became animated at once at the sight of the card. Her emotional energy suddenly and visibly shifted, and her already intense eyes seemed even more so when she made eye contact with me. She started by asking me a question. "What do you see in this card, Andrew?" Her question caught me off-guard, as I hadn't expected to be an active participant in the tarot reading. In my head, I reasoned that I would just sit and listen as Miss Amina told me everything. But that apparently wasn't the case. I stalled a bit for time and said the first obvious thing that came to mind. "Um, hmm. Well, I see a young woman. I guess she looks pretty happy." "Oh, that's a good start," Miss Amina said. "She is very happy. Can you imagine why she might be happy?" "Because she's young and she enjoys being outside on a nice moonlit night?" I tried to stay with safe, literal interpretations and hoped it would keep the conversation superficial and prevent Miss Amina from trying to talk about of any of my personal business. I looked over the card for any more details, but all I really noticed on the second glance was that the woman wore some kind of necklace. I thought it resembled the ones for sale out in front. What a marketing gimmick! But I said nothing more. Miss Amina laughed at my snide-sounding remark. "Andrew, you should really try to see beyond the visible. The High Priestess is actually an invitation to explore and embrace the world within, and most especially, the unseen, the unknown, and the feminine." This was starting to sound quite strange. "I don't really understand," I said, trying to conceal my obvious skepticism. She was patient with me. "Andrew, it's really very simple. The High Priestess represents you at this point on your life journey. You are at a time in your life where you should reflect on that which you can't see, and consider that which you don't know." I still had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Life journey? Explore and embrace the world within? What was this business about the unseen and the unknown? This was all starting to sound like the crazy talk that I'd feared I'd have to endure, based on what I learned about tarot cards from Ashley and her friends. I gaped blankly at Miss Amina, confused by her description of the card. "I have no idea what you're talking about." "Let's try another way to look at this," Miss Amina continued. "The High Priestess is, in some ways, like the Goddess." "The what?" I interrupted, still clueless. "Andrew, Andrew. Just listen and I will tell you. The Goddess is the essential, eternal feminine. She symbolizes many important things like love, creation, and growth. She also carries with her virtues like modesty, grace..." "What's all this business about the feminine?" I blurted aloud, still hopelessly lost in this whole tarot thing, but a getting a little unnerved that she kept bringing that theme up and saying that the card represented me. This was a far cry from the comfortable, familiar world of numbers, statistics, and theories that defined my job. My contempt for the supernatural was starting to show itself, and I really didn't care if Miss Amina knew it or not. Miss Amina, however, had kept up her soul-piercing gaze, and this time it really seemed that she was trying to see something hidden deep inside me. "Andrew, everyone has a feminine side, whether they are a man or a woman. That means that you have a feminine side too. You should learn to express it somehow." I took immediate offense to Miss Amina's suggestion. "What, you mean like by cross-dressing or something like that? That's insane. I'd never be caught dead in a skirt!" "No, Andrew," she said forcefully. "The High Priestess is all about the metaphorical feminine, not the literal feminine. That's who the Goddess embodies. She dwells within all of us, even you. Think really hard. How have you expressed your inner feminine self?" "What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped incredulously. I couldn't believe I was hearing this. Miss Amina really was insane, and this whole conversation was proof positive. At that, Miss Amina struck an entirely different tone, much more serious than before. "Look, listen carefully. You have the chance to understand yourself and the world on a whole new level. Your feminine side is alive inside you, and she wants to show herself. I hope you will take advantage of the opportunity to do so." I looked at Miss Amina as though she'd just asked me to swallow a live cockroach. "Okay, whatever," I said as I shrugged off her suggestion. Like I would ever do that. What value could there possibly be in doing such a thing? It made no sense whatsoever. Miss Amina didn't miss a beat, and pressed forward with the tarot reading. "Now, let's move on to the next card, about your current situation. Whenever you're ready, you can turn over the next card." I did as Miss Amina instructed and gasped a bit at the sight of the second card. It was the infamous 'Death' card! This card showed a hooded figure in a blood red robe, standing in a thick birch forest holding a big black banner with a white flower on it. The name of the card made its meaning abundantly clear. Did it predict my early death, a doom that could befall me the moment I stepped outside Miss Amina's shop? My earlier choice of words about never being caught dead in a skirt suddenly took on a whole new meaning. Before Miss Amina could begin her exposition of this card, I blurted out, "So, I'm going to die soon!?" She shook her head. "No, Andrew, you're not going to die soon. The Death card in a tarot reading almost never signifies actual physical death. Instead, the Death card is all about a transformative experience. Look more closely at the card and tell me what you see." I took notice of the fact that Miss Amina had said 'almost.' Was there something she wasn't telling me? Even though I still didn't put any stock in this tarot business, the idea of death bothered me a little more than the whole feminine side nonsense that she had gone on about earlier. Nevertheless, I picked up the card anyway and studied it, halfway surprised I was actually somewhat interested in this one. I saw that the mysterious figure appeared to be standing at a fork in a path through a birch forest. I pointed out my observation to Miss Amina, who I hoped would appreciate my effort in some way. "Very astute, Andrew!" she praised. "Not everyone sees that aspect of this card. It means that you're at an important turning point in your life. A new path is now open to you, and the old one that you were on before is no longer open to you. Did you happen to notice the small companion that accompanies the hooded figure on the card?" I took another look and spotted a small yellow butterfly flitting about near the figure's head. "There's a butterfly there," I commented. "Exactly," Miss Amina replied. "The butterfly is the perfect metaphor for transformation. It begins its life as a caterpillar, a mere shadow of the beauty it will someday possess. It's only after it hibernates in a cocoon that it becomes the beautiful butterfly you see here." For the first time, I was actually interested in what Miss Amina was saying. "So, what does it mean for me?" I asked her. "It means that a transformational event is in your near future. Be on the lookout for it." "But what kind of transformation is it?" "It's hard to say, really. You'll discover in due time though, Andrew." "Ah, okay, " I said, indicating my understanding. I pointed at the final card, which remained face down. "What about the last card?" "Go ahead, turn it over!" Miss Amina encouraged. If I remembered correctly, the last card was supposed to be about a challenge of sorts. But I also imagined it would surely foretell my future fate. Miss Amina had yet to discuss it so I was sure we would get to it eventually. I flipped it over. The card read 'Judgement.' The colors on this card caught my attention. The image was filled with brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows. It showed a fully nude young woman, another feature that caught my attention. She was standing in a blazing cauldron with her arms stretched out above her head in some sort of gesture. Behind her, there seemed to be a bird of some kind, its wings outstretched. Miss Amina smiled widely and sat up straight, apparently pleased with what she saw. "Yes, this makes everything very clear. You are about to embark on an amazing journey. Very soon, you will have a chance to discover the unknown and get a totally new perspective on life. You'll be able to understand yourself and the world in a very different way than you do now. The experience will transform you completely, and you will be reborn a whole new person, bringing you great potential for happiness." "I see," I mumbled. Miss Amina's comment about happiness was an interesting one. Happiness was an elusive thing for me, something that seemed to only punctuate much longer stretches of frustration, boredom, and depression. The prospect of happiness was intriguing, but I couldn't shake the fact that it was shrouded in this kooky tarot reading. "What's this big bird?" I asked, instead dialing into the rather obvious image on the card. I didn't really want to talk about my personal problems with this woman anyway. "That bird is the majestic phoenix," she explained. "The phoenix is a symbol of rebirth. When it's about to die, it bursts into flames and is reborn from its own ashes. It's an excellent allegory for the meaning of this card." I made a face and rolled my eyes. All of the interest that had built during the conversation about the Death card had now evaporated, lost in Miss Amina's overly elaborate interpretation of all three cards. Subconsciously, I knew I didn't believe in any of this stuff. While my parents were Jewish and followed a few of the cultural traditions, I had always considered myself as an atheist. I had never had any interest in religion or spirituality at any point in my life. Besides, tarot cards all seemed like a purposefully vague horoscope, making proclamations so general that they would fit every living person on the planet. I couldn't withhold my judgement any longer. But there was no fooling Miss Amina, who read me like an open book. "You doubt the mystical powers of the Tarot?" Miss Amina asked. "Me? But I didn't... I mean, I just... wait, well, yeah. I do." I could barely get the words out of my mouth. Miss Amina was definitely upset, but she seemed to be taking this all in stride. But something told me that she was bothered by how I remained skeptical and distant. What she said next confirmed by suspicion. "Don't try to hide how you really feel, Andrew. I could sense it all along." I shrugged. "Well, yeah. I think this stuff is all a little... crazy." Miss Amina squinted at me disapprovingly. "Crazy? Your sister warned me about you. She said you probably wouldn't be very open-minded. Definitely what I would call a Muggle." "What's a Muggle?" I asked automatically. Had Miss Amina just insulted me? And just what exactly had Ashley told this woman about me, anyway? I knew Ashley often thought I should try new things, but she'd never say I was closed-minded. Miss Amina laughed at my comment. "You've got to be kidding. Surely even someone like you has read Harry Potter?" "Those are kids' books, why would I read those?" I replied automatically, in a dismissive tone. I'm sure I didn't do a good job hiding my lack of interest in the books, or the movies for that matter. I had never really understood why so many adults became obsessed with them. Ashley had tried on numerous occasions to get me to read them, but I always had an excuse. There were so many better things that I could do with my time anyway. Making another disapproving face, Miss Amina scoffed at me. "Wow, you really are that closed-minded, and not that imaginative either. That's not really a very good combination, Andrew." That settled it. Miss Amina really was insulting me. Things were getting extremely awkward here. Ashley would most certainly hear about how badly things had gone at my tarot reading, and I'd make sure she would never live it down. How could my sister have thought that coming here was a good idea? But the more immediate problem was how to find a diplomatic way to diffuse the tension. After a long silence, I finally spoke and tried to extract myself from the situation so I could head back home. "So, no hard feelings? I imagine this happens all the time, with tourists and whatnot?" Miss Amina looked exasperated, but she maintained her patience. "No, no hard feelings. But, Andrew, I must warn you. Even those who doubt the power of the Tarot cannot escape the lessons it can teach. If you still have doubts, just turn over one last card." I had to admit, my curiosity got the better of me. I decided to humor her one last time and play along. I turned the top card of the deck over and silently read its name: 'The Tower.' Miss Amina's eyes instantly widened when she saw the card. Even I could guess why she reacted that way, because the card showed a tall tower that was being hit by lightning and burning, with two people falling out of it. Even with my inexperience around tarot cards and interpreting what they meant, it was pretty obvious that this card spelled disaster. The tone of Miss Amina's voice confirmed my reasoning. "Andrew, Andrew," she said in her most serious voice yet. "The Tower is perhaps the strongest signal in all of the Tarot. When it appears in a reading, it means you must pay attention to what you are doing, and the choices that you are making. What expectations are you holding, and what assumptions are you making?" Expectations? Assumptions? It wasn't really clear what she was referring to. I looked at Miss Amina blankly and said, "I guess I really don't know." "The Tower is your wake-up call, Andrew! If you don't wake up, and soon, it could spell disaster." Miss Amina pointed to the two people tumbling to their likely deaths on the card. She didn't need to remind me again, the message this time was quite clear. However, I didn't really understand what everything else she'd said about expectations and assumptions meant. "Um, okay," I said glibly. The only wake-up call I knew about would be when I needed to get up in the morning for my flight to San Francisco. I wasn't really keen on her fear-mongering either. Miss Amina's eyes glowed with the same intensity that I'd seen them take a few times before. This time, however, there was an almost sinister quality to her facial expression. "I'm telling you, Andrew! The Tower is always a psychic warning, a sign to pay attention. You also drew all Major Arcana cards in your reading, and that's another clear sign to tune in to your inner voice. You'll hear a very important message." Her abrupt change of affect caught me off-guard. She was starting to really scare me now. "Hey, take it easy," I said, holding up my hands as though surrendering to an advancing army. "I didn't mean to offend you." Miss Amina made one last statement, maintaining her gravely serious tone and affect. "Look, Andrew. I just get the sense that you're stuck in a life of routine and the ordinary. I'm only trying to give you the chance to see the world with fresh eyes. If you want to pass up that chance, that's up to you. But I feel it's my cosmic obligation to tell you about what the Tarot's message is for you. And I hope you will take the time to consider it fully." I'd heard about all I could take of her new age nonsense. She was studying me carefully, but I said nothing, not wanting to provoke any more reactions from her. The silence was growing increasingly uncomfortable when she finally said