Palm Readings at Sunset

Marcus ran along Venice Beach, his lungs burning, the rhythm of his footsteps the only thing keeping him together. Five years ago, he'd been a spy for hire—corporate espionage, mostly. The money had been good, but the cost had been his soul. Now at forty-two, he was trying to outrun the memories of the people he'd destroyed.

He collapsed onto a bench near the pier, gasping. That's when he noticed her—Elena, setting up a small folding table with a purple cloth. A sign read: PALM READINGS — $20.

"Your lifeline's interrupted," she said, not looking up as she arranged tarot cards. "Three times. That's unusual."

Marcus stared at his sweaty palms. He hadn't even sat down yet.

"I could tell you about your past," Elena continued, finally meeting his eyes. "Or you could tell me why you've been running from that merger you sabotaged in 2019. The one that cost three hundred people their jobs."

Marcus froze. He'd never told anyone the specifics. "How did you—"

"I wasn't always a palm reader." She gestured to the table. "I was one of those three hundred people. I recognized you from the news coverage. You had quite the reputation as a corporate spy."

The sun began to set over the water, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges. Marcus felt exposed, naked in his guilt.

"Why didn't you call the police?" he asked.

"Because you're not the only one who's made mistakes." She sat behind her table. "I'm offering you something better than prosecution. I'm offering you the truth about yourself."

He sat. Elena took his hand, her fingers tracing the lines on his palm. Her touch was gentle, maternal.

"You think you're running from your past," she said quietly. "But you're actually running from forgiveness. You don't think you deserve it."

Something broke inside Marcus. Tears came hot and fast.

"I don't," he choked out.

"Nobody cares what you think you deserve," Elena said. "The water doesn't judge what it washes clean. It just does." She squeezed his hand. "Your twenty dollars' worth: stop running. The people you hurt? They moved on years ago. You're the only one still living in 2019."

Marcus watched the waves roll in and out. For the first time in five years, he didn't want to run.