I met her at the bus stop on a cloudy day. She approached me and told me she was a psychic. I was susceptible to her mystique and so I listened to her valuable "insight". She said I was a writer an artist of some sort in a past life. I forgot to mention I was reading a book on Orson Welles while waiting. So she went on to tell me I have a great aura and much harmony. I was entranced by her. She then looked at me with wide eyes and said something is stopping me from being successful. Oh how right she was! My heart sank and I felt a pit get stuck in my throat. Was this woman really special? She clutched a coca-cola can to her chest and then checked her cell phone. She asked if I had any money for a proper reading. I said no, and when she persisted and told me she'd give me a generous discount, I allowed her to give me her phone number. She said she had many clients and that she normally charged $100 per reading. I quickly grew skeptical of her supernatural powers. I told her I couldn't afford to pay so much for something like that, so she told me she could give me a small reading for $45. I thanked her and she wandered into a store near the bus stop. When the bus finally came she got on it. She sat down in the front and asked a young man next to her if he could spare any change. She weaved an entire story about how she recently lost her job and desperately needed money for an operation. He said sorry and that he didn't have any money either.I observed her pained facial expression as he told her this truth. I couldn't help but pity the gypsy, the seer, the very streetwalk oracle whose life and experiences I knew nothing of. She seemed all alone. More alone than I had felt all my life.