The Black Door

I knocked on a black door on the 2nd floor. A woman opened it and asked me the password. “Syndrupolous Flotsam,” was my response.  She let me inside.

Another woman was standing in the hall next to a closed wooden container.  I approached her and asked for a lemon.  She opened the case and told me there were no lemons about.  I was disappointed.

At this moment, another woman approached me.  “I have the last lemon,” she said, “and I am the one you came to see.”  I followed her to the third floor where she led me into a room.  Cards were laid out on the floor.  She told me to read them, while carrying a particular memory in mind.  Any memory would do, so long as it was mine.

Fifteen minutes later, I joined her at the end of the room.  She sat in one chair, I sat in another.  She had her window to look out of, and I had mine.  A white sheet divided the space between us.  We could now hear each others’ voices, but we could not see one another.

She presented me with three options.  “Would you like to tell me about your memory, would you like to hear one of mine, or would you like me to alter yours?”  I chose to tell her about the last time I saw Julianne.  The story was somewhat sad, but I was smiling when I told it.

That was just one of the highlights of the party on Thursday night.  Frank, Jazzy, myself, and Edita, Donna’s niece, attended.  There were live bands playing, free food, cheap booze, amazing people creatures, art, lights, dancing, and conversation everywhere.  It was the kickoff event for Summerworks, a theatre festival taking place in Toronto this week.

Jazzy had her ‘soul’ read earlier in the evening.  She took the pear.  It was an amazing time and I’m soooooo glad I get to share these types of experiences with her.  We’re in Niagara Falls this weekend staying with friends.

Supper is calling and I must wrap this up, but I’ll be back with more harrowing adventures of Jarrett & Jazz.  Stay tuned!

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