“There is a psychic/ in my dreams,” Lance read. “Who likes to give me/ forbidden glances of things/ I shouldn’t know about. The future/ is exciting and horrifying/ but I never know/ it’s the future when I/ see it. Not until it’s too/ late. Which defeats/ the purpose, I think.// My psychic showed me/ my father in a hospital/ waiting room a week before/ my sister came down with the flu./ They showed me my aunt/ with a ring on her finger/ five days before she/ eloped. And most painful/ the one thing I knew was a glimpse/ of what was to come/ but didn’t have the courage/ to warn anyone about/ was the night my psychic/ showed me my mother bleeding/ in the bathroom./ Three days later she woke/ me up and said/ I have to go/ to the hospital/ something’s wrong./ I knew it the moment/ she got in the car with/ my father- the baby in/ her womb would not grow/ any bigger than/ the size of a bean.”

“Oh my God,” Keith breathed out. He opened his eyes and looked at the page. “She...?”