She proceeds to conduct an elaborate “cleansing” ritual on the cards which includes first blowing on the deck, then setting various crystals on top of it while muttering unintelligible words. Once that’s finished, she shuffles the deck, raps the bottom edge against the tabletop three times to straighten it, then sets the deck in front of me with a theatrical flourish.
Then she goes to the window and pulls the drapes closed, plunging the room into a murky semigloom. “You have your question, sugar?”
“Yes.”
“Ask the Tarot.”
I regard the deck of oversized cards warily, expecting to see an eyeball staring up at me from among the scrolls and twisting vines illustrated on the back. “How do I move on from my husband?”
Destiny takes her seat again, nodding. “Good. Cut the deck in half, then pu
