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by Kapka Nilan

A fortune teller predicts your future. One definition of future is something you get your teeth into.

The old people you knew had red wine stained teeth and onion breaths. When you were young, you vowed you would never be like them.

She touches a nameless object with her six fingers and makes swirls in it. This is your future, shapeless melted green glass. The cheap variety, with air bubbles trapped in, the one used to make upcycled vases and coasters.

“I can see teeth,” she murmurs. “Shiny white teeth. This is a good sign.” She smiles at you, revealing her missing canines.

Kapka Nilan is a Nottingham-based writer of short stories, flash fiction and poetry. Her work has appeared in Sonder Magazine, Black Market Re-View, Zeroflash, 101 Words, and anthologies.