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By Sharon Cullars

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And that day changed everything. Jennifer said hello to the woman and hadn’t said much else. She hadn’t needed to. Mrs. Carvelli looked at the young girl and recognized something in her. Jennifer never knew how. Maybe the woman had read her aura that day. Or maybe she saw something from Jennifer’s future. Whatever it was, Mrs. Carvelli had taken the teenage girl aside and told her they had to talk. That was nearly fifteen years ago. Mrs. Carvelli had kept in touch with the young psychic. But this was the first time the woman ever asked for help.

A half-remembered dream…or rather dreams…that had been recurring lately. Dreams ensconced in a past that he couldn’t decipher but that piqued his suspicions about the workings of this world as well as the one beyond. That gave him hope. As for these past two months, he had played his part well. Son to his father, friend to his cronies…masks that at one time he had worn comfortably. Lately though, the masks had begun to chafe like a hair shirt against the skin—prickly, burning, painful…or more like the bars of a prison which he had come to realize enclosed him as much as they once had his mother.

If she didn’t, she’d have a full panic attack right here in front of everybody. Tyne stood on wobbly legs, left her cubicle, and headed toward the water fountain. As she passed Rhoni’s cubicle, she caught a glimpse of her coworker idly talking on her phone, probably to her boyfriend. Tyne envied the carefree laughter of the young woman. As for herself, she felt like bursting into tears. She reached the fountain and bent to take a few sips. But the water ran dry over her tongue, barely lubricating it.

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