Stuck On You

“You’re more trustworthy this way.” The thought came while I raked black gel up repeatedly and separated eyelash hairs. I twisted the mascara cap back on and smiled to myself.

The things that stick with us, huh?

In my former life as a poker dealer, the players liked to tell me stories. Most weren’t all too different from the tall tales fishermen tell. The majority get thrown back, never to be heard from again. But some linger. Whether the man’s claim is valid about mascara wearing increasing trustworthiness, I still don’t know.

could google it. But then that’d change everything. For now, how about I just go with it?

I’m trustworthy. 

The swirl, unpredictability, and strength of the wind felt like madness today. Its crazed laughter cried out in a hauntingly and most erotic way. 

I’m out of material, so how about I take a moment and listen to the HVAC’s hum, the ring of the receptionist’s phone just down the stairs, and the trance-like beat of the music on my speaker. 

I pick up the “Mixed Emotions deck,” which I use with clients, shuffle it, and pull a card.


I’m not the blaring radio of ecstasy or the doldrums of complacency. I’d say the tarot-like deck is spot-on; I do feel encouraged. 

Head bobbing, feet tapping, the music has me moving.

Ten minutes and counting until a virtual counseling session begins. 

Guess I’m on my way. I’m mighty glad you stayed.


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