#102115

In the outer rooms of the house a party thrums. Only the bass of the music is distinguishable, pulsing through the building like the tide. I stumble from room to room, trying to find the kitchen again for another drink. Most of the rooms are more people; playing Pong, making out, sleeping on a pull-out couch. When I open the door to the dark, warm room, it seems empty. I step inside with a sigh of relief, glad to escape the party-chaos for a moment. 

The glow of the fire catches my eye first, then I notice the girl sitting in front of it. She’s sideways to me, cross-legged on the wood floor with her gaze on something in her hands. The fire is in the belly of an old-fashioned iron stove, the kind with the tall pipe on top and the grate that swings open in front. The girl looks up now and smiles to see me standing there. She looks warm like the stove, with softly curling brown hair and wide, dark eyes. She lifts her hands toward me and I step closer to see what she’s holding.

“Pick a card.” She offers them to me, fanned out. It’s half of a deck of Bicycle playing cards, the other half stacked and laid out like tarot cards in front of her. I draw the ace of spades and she takes it, lips pursed, and feeds it into the stove.