My roommates are giggling as they look up palm reading on the glowing Apple notebook. We’ve been preparing all day for the party. Searching out D.I. costumes, fun foods, and all the right ghostly trimmings that are required for a memorable Halloween party. I put down the polyester cobwebs and plop in between the two and offer my left hand.
“Tell me my future, Madam Drusilla.” I say in a mock awestruck voice and laughter escapes the three of us.
Kjirstin grasps my hand and leans over it. She begins her newly learned mysticism in her best imitation of a Transylvanian accent. “You vill meet a maun.” More giggles. “Okay, okay! It says the shape of your palm means you do things quietly and intuitively. You have shallow lines which means…” She turns away and scrolls up on the webpage. “You are manipulated by others.”
We continued looking at each other’s palms and making up fake fortunes since none of us really believed in it. Though, even days after, I would look at my palm when my mind wandered in class or at church, or when I was just taking a moment to myself. I would trace those lines with my fingertips and will them to be deeper.