Tara pressed her hands to the sides of her head, trying to dampen the thousands of overlapping words being spat into her head by her own inner voice. As if she could deaden the sound like it was some rock concert or crowded mall. Still, ineffective though it was, the action itself held a modicum of comfort for her.
It always happened this way. Touch some innocuous item, breathe some mundane smell, see some everyday object... and BAM. Dozens of competing and overlapping voices bursting into her head, clamouring over one another for recognition as if she could at will just pick one to focus on. One would rise to the top eventually, drowning out the rest as a myriad of choices that weren't hers rapidly dropped away like a chain of dominoes. It took seconds, for someone viewing... but the process for her felt like hours.
She'd learned a long time ago that people didn't really come to her to hear about possible futures, possible choices - they just thought they did. Realy, they came to hear the choice they'd already made, or the choice they were actively making that second, coming out of someone else's mouth.
What she did was less 'Divination' and more 'Confirmation'. 'Validation'. Of course, that's not what she advertised in cheap chalk across the window of her shop... and, despite her cynical view of her profession, it wasn't exactly a skill that just anybody had. She could do more... if she was ever asked. But, again... people don't want the unknown. Not really. Not in any way that matters. They want certainty - and they want the certainty that they've already picked.
So, five days a week, she sat at a table full of useless but decorative knick-nacks, in a stupid costume, just to tell people like Katherine - who sat in front of her now:
"HmmmmMMMMmm, yesssss, I see it now. The futures are becoming clear. Your loss is profound and it is clear to me that what you do need is..." pause for dramatic effect. They love that shit. "A pet. A sweet little black and white patterned kitty, perhaps?"
"Like the one at Roman's Pet Emporium!" Katherine yelled, with much more enthusiasm than Tara would have expected from a 67 year old woman.
"Yes! Exactly like that!" Tara beamed back. "Now, remember... if you'd like to leave a tip with your payment today, you'll get a fun sticker of a crystal ball if you tip 5 dollars or more!"
Whatever paid the bills, she thought as she forced a pleasant smile. Whatever paid the bills.
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