Our city used to have one psychic, an old blonde woman who read palms and tarot out of her ground floor apartment. Her name was Liza and she spoke with a rolling California speech, peppering every other sentence with "fer sures" and "gnarlies".

Since the housing crisis, the population of palmists has grown. There is a stretch of road on Congress Street where seven women ply their trade, each operating from their own storefront. They are the only profession that seems to be growing, buying up empty retail locations.

It's worth noting that the women are just mere footsteps from the banks and the offices of financial planners, and I'm sure that can't be accidental.

Are they opportunists? Or just smart entrepreneurs.


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Tucker Cummings (joined almost 11 years ago)
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Tucker created "The Strange Adventures of Margery Jones", a 365-part microfiction serial. New chapters are posted daily. Check it out at MargeryJones.com

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literary urban


city psychic crisis


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