The One Night Stand || Open

[saronym]

Owen watched the smaller woman with a concerned frown on his face. She seemed to be in pain or somewhat disoriented like her mind and body weren’t in the same place. The feeling that she was putting on some circus act faded as Owen came to believe that she was indeed reading him. Soft fingers working over his hand as she recounted small details of shocking accuracy. He could feel the heavy gaze of the other woman on him but kept his eyes on the redhead.

The room and present circumstances faded out momentarily as the events of his death flashed in Owen’s mind. The memories barreled into his mind like a runaway train. The physical pain he remembered well. The terror also of being unable to breathe as he drowned on his own blood pooling in his lungs. Owen’s eyes were glazed over and he nodded slowly almost absently. Yes that was it. That was how he died.

The physical contact was broken and Owen snapped back into the present, the memories fading away. His stomach felt queasy. He moved without hesitation to follow the fortune teller. She had his rapt attention. He stopped short of the table, flinching as if burned when she named her. Julianna.

“My wife. Do you know her? Who are you?”

The questions hung in the air while she pulled out a deck of tarot cards. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted read. These days the truth was killing him.

Owen was brought out of his thoughts by the lady with the ponytail sassing him about the rings. He glanced at her stone-faced. “Look at you using your context clues. I am so proud of you.” He was thankful for the witty banter to distract him for a moment from his apprehension for the continuation of the reading.

Owen dragged a chair out from the table and plopped down across from the women. He pulled the military ID tags from their hiding place in his shirt and handed the necklace to the fortune teller complete with his wife’s engagement ring and wedding band.