Tonight at my ceramic studio's open house, an old Russian woman read my palms — both of flesh and of clay.
My flesh hand foretold a long life, but staggered. I will have a strong love, and two children. My love and my life lines are strongly connected to each other.
My clay hand's life was also long (no surprise, since I based it on my own), but interrupted by some great disease — perhaps a heart attack? — that a close friend would help me through. She will have two important lovers, an abortion, and one child.
After the old woman wandered off, having told me her life story as well as my own and my creation's, my ceramics teacher Josh came over.
"That woman just read my palm, and the palm of my clay hand," I said, full of wonder.
"Yeah, well," he replied, "that's actually the crazy woman I told you about that keeps stealing things at these events. Last open house I caught her with a bunch of beers that she'd taken in her purse. Keep an eye on your stuff."