(thanks to JREF)
“I kinda hate this,” Jazz said.
“Just have an open mind,” Leah advised her.
The pair stared at their phones and waited for their appointments; the receptionist had told them that Psychic Garrett was running about twenty minutes late.
“You’d think the psychic would be exactly on time.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Jazz.”
“Dumb.”
“Trust me. This guy knew all sorts of stuff about me. He’ll be able to help you out.”
The receptionist told Jazz that Garrett was ready for her, and that she must come alone.
Jazz walked into a relatively normal looking office. At least Psychic Garrett has a desk, she thought, and isn’t making me sit in a beanbag chair or something.
“Sit down,” he said. “I sense that this isn’t what you expected.”
So, he can see my face. Jazz sat down.
“I sense that you are skeptical.”
“Yep.”
“But your problems brought you here, to me.”
He’s right; Leah did bring me here. “So, what can you tell me about me?”
“I can tell that you pride yourself on being an independent thinker and don’t accept things without a reasonable amount of proof,” the psychic said.
“Sure.”
“I can tell that you have learned to be hesitant in revealing yourself to others.”
“Okay.”
“At times you are very extroverted, but at other times you are more reserved.”
“Shit, do you also know that I eat food? Do you have anything specific?”
“I see a coffee mug that smells even after rinsing it out.”