As I walked into the psychic, I had an unmistakable, and yet untraceable, sense of foreboding. I had been told by many a reliable source that Madame Doloria was always right. This frightened me more than anything…
It was quite typically furnished, with an antique-ish style and an odd odor of sandalwood and cats. No one was to be seen, so I sat down on one of the squat Oriental armchairs, feeling slightly drowsy at the warmth and scent of the parlor. Would I really learn my fate here?