She was a woman of a certain age, an age where she was told how she speaks, how she dresses, how she conducts herself was unbecoming a woman of her maturity.
She felt like a pedestrian pedestrian walking through life head down, stumbling through traffic uninspired.
The fortune teller’s sign, unnoticed on other trips downtown, pulled her in.
“My life has passed me by without anything to show for it.” she bemoaned. “What can I do now at my age?”
“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?” the seer prompted. “Do whatever you want.”
Thin spiral notebook 