The Fortune Teller

She couldn’t remember what they were called until her daughter told her: ‘Chatterboxes’ or ‘Fortune Tellers’. And then, flushed with the pride of being able to create something sophisticated, showed her mother how to make one.

Alone now, she tried it out, inserting fingers into the appropriate spaces, then opening, and closing the petals as she counted. The triangles were blank still, but she knew the art of these things lay in what you wrote on them, on what the answers were when someone said “five” or “blue” or whatever it was.

Perhaps she should design this one for Jack, if only to tease him when he got home from work. Or she could use it as a way of asking him the questions she shied away from.

“Choose a number, Jack.”

“One, two, three.”

“Let’s see. How much money did you lose at the Bookies today?”

Or “How many pints did you really have in the pub last night?”

Or “Who’s Laura?”

Flash fiction from a writing workshop a few weeks ago.

My Writing Diary

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