Madame Zarina’s tent was already thick with heat, the smell of hot canvas coddling with Seafood Sid’s Whelk Stand next door. She took her crystal ball from its box, positioning it carefully on the draped table to catch the meagre light just right, wiping a smudge with the cuff of the wrap that still smelled of her mother even after all these years.
Oh Ma. She’d watched her wither away behind this table. And now it was her turn. She didn’t need that ball to tell her what lay ahead.
“Alright, Al?” Seafood Sid stuck his head through the opening. “Stinker out there today.”
“Telling me,” she said, raising an eyebrow and setting off the bells on her headdress. She liked that Sid used her real name – and that he kept his…
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The Simple Things (Digital) - 1 Issue, August 2023