Palm Reader

She read my palm, tracing the lines with her finger. She held my hand like it was precious, a rare gem or maybe a hummingbird’s egg.

“You have two lives,” she said. “See here where this line splits?”

I knew she could tell it was true but I pretended that it wasn’t. I didn’t want anyone to know what I’d done, the choice I made to leave one life behind.

She said she could heal my lifeline, knit the pieces back together. I could see the sincerity in her eyes, but again I pretended that it wasn’t true.

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