PSYCHIC READINGS BY RITCHIE SIMPSON

[gazeatchaos]

(( COMMENT HERE FOR A READING. No info about your character is necessary! ))

Comments

[scalpedsociety]

Why thank you. Tea leaves please.

[She doesn't know this person that makes his intentions to get drunk obvious.]

[middlefingers]

Right on.

[ He'll turn his attention now to an opaque... pretty general looking styrofoam cup. Tilting the lip of the cup towards him, he swivels it around, a heavily furrowed brow looking into the haze...

...of clumpy coffee grounds and what is probably backwash. ]

You're waiting somewhere. A bus station. There's a darkness around.

[scalpedsociety]

[Disgusting, if she knew what was going on. But for now, she's merely curious about what her 'fortune' would be.]

A bus station? I don't usually take the bus.

[middlefingers]

Well, it could be a metaphor. Buses take people places. They can signify new beginnings or a journey.

[ He sits up in his seat slightly, more on point. Gotta reel this one back in. ]

Does any of that seem familiar?

[scalpedsociety]

You do have a point... but where am I going, where am I thinking of going.

[She shakes her head.]

It's just so much to think about.

[middlefingers]

[ This lady seems nice enough. Frankly he's gotten a lot of shit today and it's refreshing to be able to hold an audience. She's also put down money without complaining. Too bad there aren't more like her. ]

Well, it's a good direction. There's growth and, at the end, happiness.

[ He looks away briefly to regard the street around them. Finding it adequately busy and full of blind eyes, he places his one of his hands against the top of the table. He almost rolls his eyes at himself at this hokey shit-- but it manifests all the same.

From the tabletop emerges a two-toned rose. If Aramat touches it she'll find that the texture isn't quite right...it's almost overly soft, like a tissue. ]

[scalpedsociety]

[Fake or not, it's awfully pretty and honestly sometimes things that are pretty are more important than them being real to her. She holds the rose in her hand, admiring it.]

I suppose that is what matters in the end, right.

[middlefingers]

That's what everyone seems to be running the race for-- the idea that there's something good at the end.

[ He squints. That's the kind of optimism he just can't buy into logically.

Must be nice though. ]

Just don't miss out on the good stuff along the way.