ESP

2–3 minutes

spwilcen

“Francine! Wine shopping? On Wednesday? Daddy flying in?”

“Oh, Celene! Um. Yes, and complaining of restaurant overload.”

“Leonard can’t make it?”

“Pardon? My brother? No, he’s in Spokane.”

 “And daddy’s a wine snob?”

“Hmm? Why, yes, he is.”

“Then you have menus to plan and wines to select. A Bordeaux?”

“Or a Cabernet.”

“This Bordeaux is grand. And so is this one.”

“Wonderful. What are you after?”

“Just want something for serious relaxing evenings. Nothing fussy.”

“Work?”

“No.  With a promotion you expect challenges.”

“And you thrive! But something’s bothering you?  Spill.”

“Upsetting couple of days.”

“Upsetting?  Hmm. Love life?“

“Set that aside a bit.”

“Um, what is it then?”

“I’m a little spooked-out.”

“Spooked out? By what? What could possibly rattle Ms. Scientific?”

“Cryptaesthesia.”

“Is there a pill for that?“

“ESP, Frankie.”

“You’re joking. That déjà vu hokum?”

“Not hokum. I’ve researched it.”

“Pure nonsense. Researched it? Why on earth?”

“Strange things happening lately.”

“Like?”

“I say things. Out of the blue.  Later, they’re spot on.”

“Piffle! We’ve all had moments…”

“Words just tumble out. I don’t know from where.”

“For example?”

“I told my secretary she should go see her father.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know, but she didn’t. That night she was called to emergency. Her dad had a stroke.”

“No!”

“Yes. And Gary, the day trader braggart?”

“That twit.”

“Monday my mouth said he should watch his commodities.  He laughed.”

“He hasn’t been in the office since Mon…”

“Took a huge hit.  Then mindlessly, I mentioned Cliff should watch his sweets.”

“Just common sense.”

“Sure, but yesterday his doctor told him he’s diabetic.”

“Coincidence. Pure coincidence.”

“See that gent behind us checking out?”

“Yes. What of him?”

“He’s going to buy a lotto ticket.”

“Whoa! What a foretelling!”

“He’s going to win. Win big!”

“Piffle. This is all nonsense, you’ll see.“

“I hope.”

“Look! He bought a ticket!”

“See?”

“Shush. I wanna watch. He’s scratching the foils.”

“I’m telling you…”

“Gee zowie. He must have hit it big. He’s dancing an Irish jig!”

“Told you.”

“See you, Celene.”

“Oh, Frankie?”

“Hmm?”

“Your brother, Leonard?”

“Yes?”

“Call him.”

© 2024 spwilcenski spwilcenwrites “Fiction”
exposed first by spwilcenwrites “Cryptaesthesia – April 13, 2024”