How Tarot
Cards Ended Up in My Latest Romance
I attended one of those old
Catholic colleges located in a large Midwest city. For a restless suburban girl
whose most traumatic experience was watching her Siamese cat murder the chick
she’d just brought home from biology class, living in a down-at-its heels
neighborhood clinging to the edge of a major metropolis was an adventure.
I walked a lot, lapping up new
sites and situations like a kitten with a dish of milk. One day, I turned down
a narrow side street and discovered a little occult shop. I was a good Catholic
girl who did not subscribe to ghosts, Ebenezer Scrooge not withstanding. Still,
I hesitated to poke my head inside although eaten by curiosity. So I walked
past. A few days later I strolled by the shop again. I did not go in. The third
time I approached, a beautiful girl came out. Tall and slender, jean shirt,
paisley scarf tied in her long hair and college knapsack hanging from her
shoulder.
I went in.
