the burgeoning tears, and breathe, long and slow. “Okay.”
“Okay? That’s my girl.”
I nod, recollecting myself. “You’re right. I am skilled. I’m ambitious. I can do anything I want. I can’t give up on divination altogether. Thank you, Marco.” I let out a rueful laugh, briefly passing my hands over my eyes. “God, can you imagine? Me as an accountant?”
As Clair de Lune transitions into Danse Macabre, Marco shakes his head in the negative, taking back his hand and wrapping both around the wheel. “Certainly not. And thank you—if you chose a non-divining career, I’d owe Joseph quite a lot of money that an old bag of bones like me simply doesn’t have.”
A tense beat.
He coughs awkwardly. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that.”
Very calmly and reasonably, I lift my hands and slam them both hard against the dashboard, making the two-faced ossified cadaver next to me jump. Jaw clenched, I say, “Drive the damn truck, Marco.”
“Right. Yes. Sorry.”
He twists his bleached white phalanges guiltily and starts the engine, and we drive home in deathly silence.
source