“There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be...”
― John Lennon
Gina pulled the curtains back and watched an old sedan pull into one of two parking spaces in front of her building. A tree hung over the lot, stripped of its leaves that now lay scattered on the cement. The days grew shorter now.
A tall man stepped from the car, head full of dark hair, pale skin, and a long face. He pulled the collar of his jacket up close to shield him from the cold breeze. She studied him as he looked upward, probably reading the sign on her building, then he started walking toward the door.
A bell jingled as he stepped inside. Gina pulled a shawl on, and stepped out from behind the counter where she had retreated to.
"Good afternoon," she said. "How may I help you?"
"I've come to understand you read fortunes."
"Yes," she said, "but I'm afraid I'm actually about to close for the evening."
"Your sign says you're open until six."
"That's correct, but the benefit of owning your own business is that you can close when you please. Trust me, it's nothing personal, I just need to be getting home."
The man paused, placed a hand over his mouth and rubbed something away. He stared at her with dark eyes. Then reached into his jacket to remove a mint which he crunched on loudly.
"You're right, perhaps this has been a mistake. Sorry to intrude on your time. Have a good day now, ok?"
He turned to leave.
"Wait," Gina said. The familiar itch of curiosity had climbed over her body. "What brings you here?"
"Should be obvious. I want my fortune read."
"Yes, but why?"
"Is there always an interview process before you sit down with a potential client?"
"Sometimes ... it's just, well ... I don't see many people here. I keep the place open as a favor for my grandmother and the people I do see are old women, superstitious, bored housewives thinking their husbands are cheating, or once in a blue moon two teenagers looking to get spooked or be told they're star crossed lovers."
Those dark eyes again, taking her in, seeing what was there maybe.
"It's not often I see a traveler."
"A ... traveler?"
"You are a traveler. You travel the night road. You come in the morning, see the dawn and when it's over your go back to where you came."
"Is this my fortune being read now?"
"Perhaps, unless of course you prefer we sit around a table and a glass ball that tells me the future."
He smirked, then took a step toward the counter and placed his hands down there. His hands were as pale as his face, though more worn, but still strong. She knew he had hurt people with those hands.
"I'm listening, but I don't want to keep you if you must go."
"You're in trouble," she said. "And no, that's not your fortune, it's just very evident in the feeling you give me."
"It's a very astute observation."
"You're looking for something ... that's what you do and..."
She trailed off. Something inky, black crossed over her eyes. Not tangible to the man, something in her mind's eye that swam there.
"I -- I'm sorry, we cannot go any further."
"Why? What did you see?"
"It's my fault, I apologize I shouldn't have entertained the idea."
"I need to know what you saw. Please..."
She took a hard swallow, beads of sweat started to form at her temples.
"A girl ... young, beautiful, named Hannah. She's gone, gone away."
"She's in a box. It's cold. You're looking for her, but you won't find this box. If you keep looking you ... will die."
He put a hand to his mouth again as she exhaled heavily. There was so much there, so much in the inky blackness, but it hurt to look for too long. She must of stopped talking for awhile as when she turned to look he was looking at her with his brow furrowed.
"Is your name John," she asked.
"Yes, why?"
"There's something looking for you, that knows you're looking for Hannah. They will kill you. There's no question on that."
"Well, I'd like to avoid that if that's possible."
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