I’m at the Phoenix and Dragon, the metaphysical bookstore in Atlanta apparently named for a Chinese soup.
In the back, psychics for hire wait for customers. A man at the front counter asks the salesperson, “How much for a psychic?”
“Depends on what you want them to do,” the young woman with the nose ring and inky black hair responds.
“What do they do?” the guy asks.
“They do different things,” the woman says. “Some talk to spirits. Others read cards. A few speak to angels.”
The guy reflects on this only a second before asking, “So what’s cheapest?”
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