What the Palm Reveals

The corporate gala swirled around me in a haze of expensive perfume and hollow laughter. I'd taken this palm-reading gig three months after the layoff, desperate for income, still reeling from the betrayal. Then I saw her.

Sarah stood near the buffet, her red dress catching light like a warning signal. My former friend. The woman who'd smiled over coffee while quietly copying my client list, who'd feigned concern as my department crumbled around me. A fox in tasteful business attire.

Our eyes met across the room. She didn't look away.

"Still exploiting people's insecurities?" she asked, sliding into the chair opposite me. Her palm pressed against mine—warm, confident, utterly unrepentant. "Remember when you tried to read my future at that office party? You said my success line was broken."

I traced the lifeline on her hand. "I said you'd rise at others' expense."

"I built an empire, Maya. You're telling fortunes at corporate events."

"I kept my soul."

She laughed, but something flickered behind her eyes. The sphinx-like silence between us held more truths than either would speak. I felt the slight tremor in her fingers—fear, perhaps, or the weight of too many secrets.

"What do you see now?" she challenged. "In your fancy mystical way."

I studied her palm. The success line she prized so deeply had developed a fracture, a fork I hadn't seen before. New lines crossed her heart line—deep, chaotic, recent. "You're lonely, Sarah. You have everything you wanted, and you're more alone than I've ever been."

She pulled her hand away. "Better to be rich and lonely than poor and principled."

"Is it?" I met her gaze. "I sleep at night."

The sphinx smiled from her wrist—a tattoo I'd never noticed before. Riddle me this, it seemed to say. What's worth more: the empire you built, or the bridges you burned?

Sarah walked away without answering. Some riddles solve themselves. I flexed my palm, still tingling from her touch, and signaled the next client.