“You don’t smoke.”
“I do when you’re around.”
“I love you. I’ve loved you a long time.”
“Yeah? So?” Inhale, exhale, smoke rings.
“You’ve never smoked.”
“Like I said. You’re here.” The man in the haze of smoke was uncompromisingly uninterested in her.
She woke up. Another bizarre message from beyond? Whoa. And not that subtle. Who smoked like that? Who didn’t care whether she loved them or not — or, rather, who used her love as a hook?
“There’s something in this,” she thought, shuffling around her room, getting dressed. “I’ll figure that out later,” she thought, wishing badly she had one of those coffee makers where a person could set a timer and wake up to the smell — and taste! — of fresh, hot, coffee.
Long ago someone had drawn her astrological chart. “Squares,” they’d said. “Here, here, here.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Triangles are when things come together for you. See how squares are open at one end? Things don’t come together. You’re going to have challenges in three areas; work, love and money.”
“What else is there besides work, love and money?”
“I guess you’ll find out,” the astrologer had told her. “You’re clearly an interesting person, see here? You’ll have an adventurous life. But, no. Love relationships won’t work out. You’ll find love, but it won’t work. The timing will be wrong, communication problems, all that kind of thing, you know? You’ll have personal satisfaction in work, but no success, no advancement. And money? You’ll have enough, but…”
“Thanks,” she’d said, and plopped her money down.
“Don’t you want your chart?”
“No,” she’d said. “Whatever it is, it’ll come. Whoever it is, I am.”
“But it could be helpful.”
“I don’t see how,” she had replied walking out into the pink light of a beach winter sunset.
“I guess this is just another one of those squares,” she thought, pulling her sweatshirt over her head. “I really want some coffee.”