Note: The image here is of the miniature Tarot Shoppe that Arnell Ando made for me. The Shoppe is real, the door is real. The story is imagination!
A large sign sat on the sidewalk outside of the shoppe, advertising the fortune telling services offered inside. Looking through the window, one could see the two high backed chairs, one on either side of the table. On the table itself rested a pack of cards. It was the cards that told the story. The cards, and the enigmatic woman that did the readings. She sat there, in her long, dark skirt, and mauve, long sleeved, high necked blouse. She wore pearls in her ears and at her throat … dainty, discrete pearls. Her hair was up in a French roll, and she wore an antique shawl over her shoulders.
Her voice was soft, but direct. Her small hands, with their neatly clipped nails, held the cards with great respect. Her eyes followed the images as she placed the cards on the table, allowing the stories of her clients to unfold. She always told them what she saw, in whatever manner she felt that they would accept. She watched their body posture from under her lashes, allowing the words to flow that would tell their truth, but allow them to be comfortable with it.
She served tea as she read her cards. When the teapot was empty, the reading was over.
Do you want to go through that door? That lovely, sparkly door? Are you ready to hear your truth?
(c) October 2011 Bonnie Cehovet