The Psychic Next Door

[First Draft] Chapter 2: Crushed

I stepped forward, slinking down the shop's steps. I approached the plain white door, identical to mine, like I was stalking skittish prey. I was strangely afraid that if I moved too quickly or too loudly, the light would suddenly shut off and I'd miss my chance.

Why did I want to go in so badly? It was the strongest, indescribable urge. Maybe it was the mystery of the neighbouring shop that kept such weird hours. Maybe I was just too curious for my own good. Or maybe... maybe it was the feeling of the unknown that pervaded in my life right now. I had been looking for answers, for insight, and... That was what psychic's did, right? They told you about your future.

I reached for the doorknob and I froze, suddenly self-conscious. This was so unlike me. I had never been one to indulge in superstition, and it was absurd that I was on the threshold now. What would I say? What would I ask? Whatever my personal problems were, did I really need to talk to a psychic?

The skeptic in me flared up, reminding me that all psychics were really just perceptive liars. They just tell you what you want to hear, and used smoke and mirrors to weasel you out of your money

But as I was about to turn away, the ache returned, and I knew why I wanted to go in. It was about Rick. My rational self was failing me yet again. Even though my brain told myself that I would be all right, that I would make it through this, that I'd find someone else, that psychics were nothing but frauds... My heart, my weak, broken heart, wanted reassurance. It wanted to hear someone else to say it. It wanted to be told that my future held happiness... and love. Even if I  had to hear it from a psychic, someone who I knew deep down was probably just lying to get their hands on my cash.

Then all the arguments I was wrestling with in my head were suddenly thrown aside, because before I could bring myself to grip the handle and turn it, it turned itself. I went rigid, and not out of self-consciousness, but out of fear. Was the door opening itself? Did they know I was there? That would be too creepy, even for a skeptic like me.

But it wasn't magic, or something otherwordly. It was just a person, silhouetted by the bright light behind them. The contrast made it difficult to see them for a moment, but when my eyes finally adjusted to the change in light and I looked into their eyes, I could barely remember my name.

It was the guy — that gorgeous, perfect guy — from this morning. His green eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, sharp and crystal clear. I was simultaneously entranced and envious; I only had dull brown eyes that didn't do anything spectacular. 

And all I could do was stare at him, like he was a mirage and would disappear as soon I could find the will to blink.

"Can I help you?" he said, breaking the awkward silence that had started to drag on. His gaze was shrewd but kind, and a little confused. He just looked a little surprised to find me on his doorstep in such a disheveled state.

"Uhm," I replied, wittily. "I'm here to see the psychic...?"

He blinked for a second before his face eased into that wide, beautiful grin — the same one from this morning. "Sure, come in."

As he stepped aside from the door to allow me to enter, it suddenly occurred to me that this was the second time I had seen him around here. What was a gorgeous thing like him doing hanging out in a shop like this? Was he a friend, or just a regular customer? Even my usually rational mind ran out of control as I wondered to myself if I could date a guy who regularly visited psychics shops like this...

The thought of shops like this flitted away as I entered. This was not what came to mind when I had thought of a psychic shop. I had been expecting a wizened old woman hidden beneath a mountain of shawls, candles on every surface, with embroidered tapestries and bizarre art covering the walls. This shop, however, was the absolute opposite of that. It was surprisingly modern.