He doesn’t reply. Blinks, once or twice. She watches the little pearl of saltwater build. Take shape. Bulge, reflecting tiny prisms of iridescence. She has to force herself not to pull a face as the tear finally spills over the lip of his drooping eye. He’s wept, one-sided, since he sat down, though there has been no accompanying sound. His eye, tugged down as if with an invisible finger, glistens pinkly. A steady drool of tears oozes from the lip of the lid, charting a course down yellowy, unhealthy-looking skin. He spends most of his time indoors, she thinks. Hasn’t known much sunlight. And that smell. Like something on the turn …

‘Ah, so this is one of my favourites,’ she says, cheerfully. Considers the cards. She’s pleased to be considering the images again: studying the Oracle with the same warm feeling as others might consider an old photo album. She is among friends, here. Knows each image like her own reflection.

‘Hmmm, that one facing towards me … that’s unusual …’

Glances up. She’s grateful for the smoke from the incense burner. It blurs his edges. Conceals the worst of the fungal, earthy aroma that seems to seep out of his skin. She feels an urge to stick her nose above the scalding surface of her herbal tea. There’s something about this man that makes her think of spores: of something rotten. Can imagine him coming apart into a million tiny points of flesh, billowing away like seed heads to be distributed by the breeze.

‘Who is that?’ he asks, his voice low, the words hard to discern. She wonders whether English is his first language. He’s staring at the card as if it were written in his blood.

‘Ah, well, that’s next, but if you’re eager, well …’

‘Who!’

She gathers herself. She’s no stranger to raised voices, heightened emotions. Telling the future, disentangling the present, providing guidance from the spirits: she can forgive outbursts of emotion.

‘An interesting card,’ she says, quietly. ‘You’ve chosen an unusual spread, as it happens. But, well … L’Amica is the Female Friend, but she can also represent friendship in a general sense – similar to the Dog in the Lenormand deck, though we’re getting fairly advanced territory there. L’Amica brings valuable aid, especially when she appears upside-down. She can be a safe harbour in a dark storm. She won’t make all of your problems disappear, but …’

‘I don’t know her,’ he says, and the sound is harsh, grating: a hiss through locked teeth.

‘Well, obviously, it’s not saying this is a specific friend, it’s implying somebody with that kind of relationship, that closeness …’

‘What do you mean “obviously”?’

She smiles, to show she hadn’t meant anything offensive. Does her best to look the way her clients want her to. Friendly, plump, a little Bohemian: an ethereal being emerging through the fog of incense carrying opaque messages from beyond the veil.

‘Perhaps there is somebody from your past – somebody who may be returning, to listen, to offer counsel …’