Above the door for apartment 406 was a sign that read:
MISS AMBROSIA SKYE – TAROT READINGS – PALMISTRY – ASTROLOGY
The superintendent hadn’t told her to take it down, but it had only been up a month or so. The interior of the apartment was decked out in New Age décor. She had numerous books on tarot, spiritual healing, angels, the afterlife, and communicating with departed souls; and that was just the top shelf. She was sitting at her kitchen table with a spread of tarot cards in between her and her current clients, Mr. and Mrs. Everett. Mrs. Everett was really engaged and interested in the reading, but it was overtly obvious that Mr. Everett was only there because his wife was.
Miss Ambrosia Skye drew a card from the deck and put it down on the table.
She stared at it, intently. “Hmm,” she bit her lower lip for added effect.
“What?” Mrs. Everett straightened in her seat, coming closer to Skye and her cards.
“I just drew the Tower Card,” Skye said in a purposely ambiguous tone.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Well,” Skye paused, taking in how alertly Mrs. Everett was drinking in her every word and gesture, and how disinterested Mr. Everett looked, slumped back in his chair. “The Tower Card is very similar to the Death Card–“
Mrs. Everett gasped.
Skye continued: “–in that it’s a card of destructive and creative power. Just like a building that is condemned and must be torn down to make way for something new, so too is the purpose of the Tower Card. Is there something old, something that you’re holding onto that you need to let go of before you can move on?”
“That’s funny, isn’t it, David! The kitchen.”
Trying to hide her surprise, Skye inquired: “Your kitchen?”
“Yes. I’ve wanted to knock out the kitchen wall for years and make it open to the living room so that it’s more of an open concept thing. David always thought it was too expensive, but if the cards are telling you . . .” Continue reading