The woman pulled out a thin blade and reached for my hand. I took a deep breath and uncrossed my arms. With another breath, I wrung out my hands, shaking my fingers loose from the clench they held. Finally, I gave the woman my right hand.
“Square or rounded?” she asked, readying the nail file for work.
“Rounded squares,” I answered, resting my left hand on the armrest of the salon chair.
The nail technician began to work on my pinkie finger, and I relaxed into the rolling pins and vibrations of the massage chair. The visit with Aleph the other day had left me tense and out of sorts. She always left me feeling exposed. Aleph looked at me as though she knew more than she let on, and she liked to talk in riddles.
Despite the way I made my living, searching for the lands of the lost and de
