Rob S. Friedman
August 2024
The Paper Fortune Teller
The last time she touched my hand she was reaching for something else. She felt through her backpack to find the paper fortune teller she had folded on the train
that connected the home of her marriage to where she lived a separate life of work, a roommate and a lover. Each origami corner
was inscribed with a winking innuendo and with each random number I called out she made the boxes wriggle with those same glancing fingers.
Anticipation grew with each revelation, with each hint and playful allusion to what would never happen, to what could never happen.
Rob S. Friedman 