(A room without walls. A table with three legs in the middle. A thermos. A and T sit opposite each other. A spreads out tarot cards in straight, ritual movements. T logs into her laptop.)

A: He’s approaching. I can feel his energy.
T: Feel energy? You hear something? See something?

(A leans forward. T leans back.)

A: Don’t you feel the table vibrating?
T: It’s standing on three legs.

A: Everything is a sign if you’re open to it.
T: Everything is noise if you lack filters.

(T gives a small, satisfied twitch of the neck.)

A: You need to let go and follow the flow.
T: I’m not poetry. Neither is life.

(T taps twice with her index finger on the edge of the laptop.)

A: The universe is trying to tell us something.
T: If the universe wants to say something, it can use words.

(The thermos releases a dry ’kwe’)

A: That was a sign!
T: It’s thermal expansion. You know that too.

(A draws three cards and places them in a straight line. The Moon. The Devil. Judgement.)

A: Past. The Moon. Foggy. Unclear.
T: A wolf howling at a crab?
A: Present. The Devil. Bondage.
T: Two men glued to their chairs.

(A looks at the third card. Pause.)

A: Future. Judgement. (Pause)… no.
T: No.

A: I can feel his vibration in the room now.
T: The only thing vibrating is the CPU load on my laptop.

(T zips up her hoodie. Pulls the hood over her head.)

A: He’s late because Mercury is in retrograde.
T: You never specified time or place.

(T takes a quick, controlled breath.)

A: It’s cold in the room. I think we’re approaching the truth.
T: We’re approaching a breakdown.

(A nods, as if this were a confirmation. T looks at him suspiciously.)

A: We can’t be lost. We’re on a journey.
T: We are lost. A journey requires direction.

A: We’re lost.
T: Don’t say that.

(The thermos clicks. The table shakes. A jerks back. T looks up in terror.)

END.