Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue, as I am poor.
October
"Your heart's desire, Negotiator."
The outdoor market attracts all kinds, but the old woman seems out of place even here.
She doesn't meet his eyes. Her gnarled fingers swirl smoky waters in a tarnished silver bowl. "Look," she commands.
She is a woman, and elderly besides. He humors her. At first, he simply sees his broken reflection. Then, out of the ripples of light and shadow, a pattern sketches across the water.
He pulls his hand away. The bowl topples. Pouring out over the table, the image wavers and dissolves.
"Preposterous," he snaps.
The old woman only smiles knowingly.