fortune

there are times, such as now, as i’m leaning over the balcony railing and reaching out to catch the small intricate flakes of snow spinning lazily to the ground, that i feel a flash of burning light in my eyes and the feel of heat on my scalp. my hand instinctively curls back and shields my eyes against the imaginary onslaught of dust and wind, while i gulp at dry air and recoil from the smell of rancid sneezes.
but then, i open my eyes and realize, as the goosebumps on my arms rise and the resounding bustle of horns and rolling syllables fade from my ears, that the snow is falling from a cloudy sky only to fall on the clean black tar of a quiet, empty street.
confused, i look to my right, and then, turn my head to look to my left, my hair swinging against a soft thermal shirt. that smell of spices, it cannot be a mistake.
mistakes are different. mistakes are like what i’ve done. like how everything i’ve done for you, i’ve always done more than i should.
but this, this was a memory.
always one of familiarity, i can feel myself slipping into the circle of events from the past. just like what the fortune teller said as he traced his aged finger against the lines of my palm.
i should’ve listened to his careful warnings, that I refuse what i want the most at this time. but always selfish, i did not listen.
i did not refuse, i embraced. and now i’m back outside, standing in the cold, shivering at the fall of snow and the chill of wind.
and if i had done the right thing, i would not ache for better.