The bitter grit was hard to swallow. I'm used to those little sachets of chamomile or oolong, not dregs thick enough to coat my tongue. I should've taken tasseomancy more seriously. "The first thing you see?" She pointed to the cup. "Teardrops." "Sadness. Here on the rim?" "Something like an octopus." "A warning!" Her thick … Continue reading Tasseomancy