Palm Readings in the Pyramid

The air conditioning in the Pyramid Hotel's conference room was always too cold, but Elena kept rubbing her palms together anyway, trying to warm them. She'd been giving palm readings at corporate retreats for three years since the investment fell apart, since David left with half their savings and his assistant's phone number etched in his contacts.

That's when she saw him—standing by the refreshment table, pyramid scheme gleaming in his eyes as he pitched to some junior executive. David's hair was thinner, his suit more expensive, but that charming lean hadn't changed. Lightning struck outside, the flash illuminating his profile through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Elena." He was suddenly beside her. "I heard you were doing... this." His gesture took in her small table, the crystal ball, the sign: PALM READINGS — YOUR FUTURE REVEALED.

"It pays better than financial planning," she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. "And no one asks about their retirement portfolio."

David laughed, that same bark she'd once found endearing. "Remember Mexico? That resort with all the palm trees? You said my life line was ridiculously long."

"I was wrong."

The thunder rumbled, closer this time. David reached for her hand, his fingers familiar against her palm. "Come back to the city, El. This hotel chain thing—I'm running it now. Corporate wellness, spiritual retreats. I could use someone who actually knows this stuff."

"And you'd still be you," she said gently, pulling away. "Some things, David, even palm reading can't fix."

Outside, lightning fractured the sky again, brilliant and momentary. She watched him walk away, his silhouette swallowed by the pyramid-shaped architecture, and finally, finally felt warm.