Steam

The amount she stares at her coffee, you’d think she could tell the future in those swirls of cream.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, when I mentioned as much. “The future’s 3D. It moves in a hundred directions.” And she moved her hand through the steam, caressing it into new shapes.

“There?”

“There.”

“So what do you see?”

“The usual. Some pain, some joy. Hope, death, winter and spring.”

“This week’s lottery numbers?”

She hands me a card. “I got those this morning.” I raise an eyebrow, and she sips the coffee. “Last night’s hot chocolate told me you’d ask.”