The Fortune Teller's Layoff

Margot traced the **palm** of her hand with her thumb, the way her grandmother had taught her when she was seven. Life line, love line, fate line—all of them seemed to lead to the same cubicle on the seventh floor of this glass-and-steel tower where she'd spent twelve years watching her colleagues get laid off one by one.

The **fox** in the open plan was Clarke from Marketing. He'd survived three rounds of layoffs by strategically positioning himself near every coffee machine, casually mentioning cross-functional synergies whenever senior leadership walked past. Margot had watched him work, had even admired his predatory grace, until last month when he'd taken credit for the rebranding project she'd stayed late to finish.

"You should speak up," Clarke had told her afterward, his sympathy as genuine as a LinkedIn connection request. "You're too quiet, Margot. People don't know what you do."

What she did now was stare at the **goldfish** bowl on her desk. Marcus had bought it for her after their second date, saying something about how fish were supposed to be calming, how their three-second memories meant they lived in eternal present tense. The fish, named Barry, floated near the glass, his mouth opening and closing in silent observation.

Barry outlasted Marcus. Barry outlasted Margot's promotion hopes. Barry might even outlast her employment.

The HR email had arrived at 4:58 PM yesterday: "We regret to inform you..." The usual corporate courtesy, as if regret could be quantified in severance packages.

Margot looked at her palm again this morning, really looked at it, and saw what her grandmother must have seen all those years ago: not a future but a choice. She packed her fish bowl, left her keycard on the desk, and walked past Clarke's cubicle where he was already calculating his next move.

Somewhere, Barry swam in circles, oblivious to exit strategies. Margot stepped outside into real air and real light, her palm pressed against her own chest, feeling something like a heartbeat return to a body that had been holding its breath for twelve years.