After that, the lines on my hands moved. The woman in the black dress told me my life line split in two, that I have notches for grandchildren but will never be a father. She said my hands were waves. She said my hands were spinning plates. She called me brother, as in Be careful of your liver, hermano, & Escucheme hermano, cruise ships do not auger well for you. This was years ago, before the foosball tournament, before some sickness, before the family became the cultural unit again. What do you call this time?
Arthur
New York, NY
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