Snow, Gingerbread and Fate Part V
Two big hands appeared. One held a small black pouch with herbs in it and the other was empty and open. Simahaa rummaged around in a hidden pocket inside her coat, took out three coins and dropped them in the open hand. The hand vanished and she heard a satisfied grunt from behind the door, followed by some clinking before the empty hand came back. She sighed and closed her eyes. Then she took off her gloves and touched it.
It took her a few heartbeats before the familiar feeling of déjà vu set in. The light, still shimmering through her closed eyes, and the proximity to the noisy market distracted her. She usually used her blindfold in a quiet place when she read the Essence of Fate. But this had to be enough. Her customer or victim, as she always called them, didn’t know that she could read so much more, given the right circumstances. Or they knew it, but didn’t want to know too much anyway.
She once tried to describe her gift to someone, but couldn’t quite find the right words. Déjà vu seemed to be the closest feeling with which she could specify it. Something you’ve had seen or done before. Not with your eyes and body, but with someone else’s. The first time she had done it, she had to puke all over her bed afterwards. Fortunately, the puking had stopped over the years, but she was still getting sick.
