I stare out the window at the fluttering snow flurries. I can't believe today was the day my psychic was telling me about. The snow is mixing with the dirt on the ground and creating a disgusting, brown slush that coated all of Watershed Heights. I can sense no good energy from this day, but who was I to doubt Madame Mystic? If my psychic tells me I should venture out today, then venture I shall.
I slowly tug on my elbow-length rubber gloves and carefully position my surgical mask, placing the extras in the pocket of my long, yellow parka. I stuff my thickly-padded feet (three pairs of socks, of course) into my faded pink rain boots. I take a long look in the mirror, and realize I'm missing my most essential accessories: my collection of Evil Eye jewelry. Thank God I realized; I just saved myself from a whole lot of panic.
I take a deep breath and push open the door, hearing the rusty hinges squeak from their lack of use. Anxiety washes over me as I step over the threshold. I hear someone crying in the room next door: an omen. I clutch my Evil Eye necklace, feeling its power rush through me. I can do this.
I hold my breath as I take the evelator down to the lobby and weave my way to the door. I am careful not to touch anything. Outside it is still snowing, blanketing Watershed Heights. I shudder. Madame Mystic says today is important. Phoebe, go outside.
I cringe as I place my protected hand on the doorknob and swing the door open, feeling the rush of dirt and wind hit me in the face. I am only responsible for staying outside for thirty three minutes. Then I can go inside to the safety of my apartment. I step outside, walk thirty three steps away from the building. I wait.
I look around the building, searching for the magical moment Madame Mystic promised me. I look down, around, and behind, making sure I don't move from my spot. Finally, I hear something.
"Oy!"
I look up to see a mysterious looking man peering at me from his window. His hair is scruffy, and I see evidence of a five-o-clock shadow forming on his child-like face. A small smiled creeps onto my face. His gaze does not waver, and a chill shoots through me, forcing me to catch my breath. Then, the man abruptly shuts the window. I waste no time, and I scurry inside to call Madame Msytic. Who was that?
