Fortune Teller Appears at Counter.

This may have been six months ago, a year ago. A old heavy set man in Indian garb came in, put a card down in front of me which said “Fortune Teller” along with some additional info I did not retain, and then proceeded to tell me about myself, English is not bad: “You are very cheerful, but overthink things… ” Then he said something about “seventeen years”, and the last two years had not been good, I’d been holding something back… Facts which startled me later.

I asked him if there was something I could do for him and tried to communicate with my expression acceptance and kindness toward him as a person, while at the same time rejecting his services. “Are you Greek? Italian?” he said. I shook head no. “I have four children, all without food” (I took out six dollars from the tip jar for him which I later replaced from my wallet — the tips are communally divided). “I just work here,” I said, so as to excuse myself, I suppose, for not giving all.

“I will be back,” he said, counting, pocketing, heading to the bus stop. “May I have water?” “There.” I said. “A cup? Oh” “Yes, there, you see it,” I said. “I see it here.”

He came back a month or two later, had me write something on a piece of paper which he then tore up in front of me, placed behind his back and returned in front of me whole. I gave him a little more money, direct from my wallet this time, and, with all the kindness in my eyes and expression I could muster, said Please, no more for me, not again, thank you.


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