The Gypsy's fingers were cold. Very cold, indeed. Like ice. I withheld from shuddering, as she pursed her lips.
She began to trace the lines that ran across the fatty part of my palm, and from the bottom part of my finger as it met with the line that met my thumb.
"You have been through one a many hardships. Death even." she whispered.
"You love taking risks and defying those around you, yey you are scared to trust the most docile of mice." her words were too close to my heart for comfort. All I could do was nod stifly.
My father had died when I wad three. Then my grandfather, dying when I was five. They both left me with a poor Mother and an overly protective religious Grandmother.
When my brother was born by my Stepfather, we grew worse into debt. As the older sister, I sometimes went days without eating for my younger brother, Carilton to eat and grow.
My Stepfather and Mother bickered constantly, and I wondered if they truly loved one another.
I was set to be betrothed, and my Grandmother was starved for money. She was greedy and did not care for my opinion at all.
My Mother was no more an Adult than me, obediant to every euro that came her way.
"Don't worry, child." The Gypsy's grip on my hand tightened comfortably, "You will not be alone like the woman in your world.
Love will find it's way into your heart. You will be faced with hard decisions but they shall be necessary." she warned.
"You will think one to be your Angel of Death, but do not trust appearances, he may be your salvation if you choose to trust him." Her words were kind.
She rolled my hand into a fist, but not before she tucked something round and hard into my palm. It was cold to the touch. I clutched my fist to my chest.
I opened it slowly. Peeking out between my fingers was a flat pink heart shaped stone. It was rough around the edges, but smooth to the touch in the middle.
"W-what is this?" I asked softly, unmoving on the chair as the Gypsy's eyes darted around.
"It's a stone that my Mother gave to me when I was your age. I have no children and I feel you will need its strength more than I ever will now." she confessed.
I gaped, this was her Mother's stone?? Why was she giving this to me?
" I can't take this!" I objected, offering it to the older woman. The Gypsy smiled, and pushed the stone back into my grasp.
"It will do you well. You are as beautiful as I hoped any child of mine ever could be." she said cautiously. reaching out to tuck a long strand of black waves behind my ear.
"T-thank you!" I said, blushing as I clutched the stone to my chest. I hurriedly untucked a handkerchief from my bodice and wrapped the stone in the fine cotton.
I secured it in my bodice, so it pressed against my real heart, thumping wildly.
"I'll keep it safe!" I promised, beaming. Suddenly the weight in my shoulders seemed to be lessened for the time being.
The Gypsy smiled. "I'm heading to my homeland soon. I hope it will keep you safe, and I hope you will do the same for it."
I smiled at her, "I will." It didn't even register it my mind that she was leaving. I was too happy.
"Oh!" I cried, remembering mu Mother's stall. "I must go." I told her, standing with my hoop skirt booming out behind me and extending from my hips.
The Gypsy nodded, like she expected as much.
I nodded and muttered good day before skipping over to Mother. I paused, mere feet from the coverage of the tapestry.
"What's your name?" I asked the Gypsy, tilting my head curiously. The Gypsy smiled, pleased I had asked.
"My name is Saraia Uhmaghandi." she said, dipping her head respectively. I smiled. Sarai. It was a pretty name for a kind woman.
"Thank you, Saraia." I said, bounding over to Mother, happily.
Mother smiled at me, an odd look in her eyes. She pet my hair from the roots to the ends affectionately. I smiled, a thick feeling rising up into my throat.
"Mother?" I asked curiosly. She smiled sadly in response.
"Analissa, your Grandmother wishes to talk to you. Head upstairs." she told me.
I frowned, but nodded and walked behind the stall, to our double story apartment that we shared with another family of four.
The market was run off of one minor street with rows and rows of apartments, down each side of the streets.
Grandmother hardly talked to me anymore and hardly came out of her room. It had to be serious if she "wished to speak to me"
I shivered as I tugged on the doorknob. The stone was warm against my breast in my bodice and I tried drink in that warmth.
I was scared and I didn't know why. My legs were shivering and I tried to steel them. I had to be strong. Whatever Grandmother had to say, I could take.