On December 23, 2015, at approximately 5 o’clock in the morning, I was on the road in my trusty 2002 Grand Am, pushing through holiday traffic toward my mother’s home, seven hours away. My radio was humming from my mixed CD, and the night around me glittered with the headlights of my fellow travelers. Then,…
Angelia smiled patiently, waiting for me to formulate my next question. I wish I could say it was as detailed and as brilliant as the first one, but I was still thrown by the fact that she had chosen to label me a writer. A creative person, sure. An independent person, obviously. An artist, even. …
Originally, the time span from my psychic appointment with Angelia seemed endless. However, I passed it by grabbing lunch at McDonald’s and getting my car’s emission test across the street. The emissions manager was pleasant, and we chatted about the weather and his ride while he quickly analyzed my car. “That’s a gorgeous motorcycle,” I…
