It began harmlessly enough.
She came home holding a tiny crystal ball and a velvet pouch.
“I’m psychic now,” she announced.
I stared at her. “You bought a mood ring and watched three TikToks. That doesn’t make you psychic.”
She dramatically placed a scarf on her head and waved incense in my face. “Silence! I sense… that you will soon be very annoyed.”
I coughed through the smoke. “That one’s always true.”
—
Over the next few days, she completely committed to her new “gift.”
She made a “Tarot corner” in our bedroom using candles and one of my old T-shirts as a tablecloth.
She began every morning by flipping cards.
One day, she pulled the Death card and screamed. “You’re not allowed to microwave fish this week!”
“…That’s not what that means.”
“Shhh. Let the spirits speak!”
I reached for coffee. She blocked me. “You can’t drink that today.”
“Why?”
“The cards say caffeine will cloud your third eye.”
“I’m going to cloud your apartment if you don’t move.”
—
Then came the horoscopes.
She started texting me “daily readings” like:
> “Scorpio vibes are off today. Avoid coworkers named Steven and be nice to cats.”
> “Mercury is in retrograde. Don’t sign contracts. Also, wear blue.”
> “Saturn is watching. That means don’t eat tacos with your left hand.”
I didn’t know what scared me more—the predictions or how much she believed them.
—
It all escalated when she bought a Ouija board.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
“Oh come on,” she grinned. “Let’s ask it what color our next bedsheets should be!”
“Nope. I’m not getting haunted by a ghost with opinions on thread count.”
She pouted. “But what if we get a nice ghost? Like Barry?”
“…Who the hell is Barry?”
“Our apartment ghost! He knocked my plant over last night!”
“That was the dog.”
“Or Barry.”
—
The final straw came when she made me pick a card before bed.
I reluctantly drew a card from the deck.
She gasped. “The Lovers!”
I blinked. “…So, good news?”
She smiled brightly. “It means we’re soulmates!”
“That’s—wait, you stacked the deck, didn’t you?”
“…Maybe.”
I sighed. “You’re the most exhausting mystic I’ve ever met.”
She leaned in, eyes sparkling. “And you love me for it.”
I couldn’t deny that.
—
That night, we lay under our constellation-themed blanket.
She was reading moon phase updates aloud while the crystal ball sat on our nightstand like a judgmental potato.
I turned to her and asked, “So what’s tomorrow’s prediction?”
She smiled sleepily. “You’ll wake up next to someone annoying… but totally worth it.”
I grinned.
“Finally, an accurate reading.”
—
To be continued…
