After dinner he read my fortune. Told me I worried too much, and I would be financially troubled, and that the man in my life didn't see me as a priority.
He told me that North America was upside down. That men here weren't as strong as they should be with their women, and that he never did the dishes.
When I felt the vomit rise in my throat, I excused myself.
The moral of the story, kids? The devil can't tell a fortune worth shit, and patriarchy is thriving in hell.
