The glass stretched from floor to ceiling. Inside, small fish circled slowly while sea plants swayed in the dim blue light.
She stood close. Her palm rested against the glass, eyes fixed on the world beyond it. Paul stayed a meter away, watching the way she reacted, the way other people reacted.
An aquarium.
"So beautiful," she muttered.
Her eyes followed a school of fish drifting left, then shifted to him. Her brows pinched slightly.
"Why are you standing so far away?" she asked. "Am I that uncomfortable?"
Paul glanced around. It was not crowded, just busy enough to remind him the place still mattered. He stepped closer and faced the glass with her.
"Shit, I should take some pictures before I forget," she said suddenly.
She set the shopping bag down and opened the phone box.
Paul looked once, then returned his gaze to the tank.
It was unusually calm. A jellyfish drifted near the glass, pulsing softly, then floated away.
Can they see out? The thought came without warning.
Click.
She took photos one after another. Different angles. Left to right. Careful, like this moment might not exist later unless she kept proof of it.
When she was done, she lowered the phone and exhaled slowly.
"Feels kind of weird," she said softly.
"Weird?"
"Yeah." She glanced at him. "We can only see what's happening, but we can't interfere."
"You can," Paul replied. "Just turn off the water supply."
She clicked her tongue. "You've got no chill, you know that? What I'm saying and what you're responding to. It's like everything goes over your head."
He didn't answer. But he knew what she meant.
"Let's check the others." She started walking. Paul followed quietly.
He noticed the kids gathered near the penguin enclosure. More than the fish tank earlier. He watched her reach the glass, then gasp, covering her mouth with one hand.
"Hurry up," she called. "You can't miss this."
He walked at the same pace. When he reached her, he understood why.
White everywhere. A world of ice. Penguins moving like children who had just learned how to walk.
"So cute," she muttered.
She started counting. "One, two, three, four, five, six. Six of them."
"Seven," Paul said.
"Seven?" She glanced at him. "Where? I can only see six."
"Behind that ice wall."
She leaned closer but still frowned. "There's only one."
"It's hiding behind him."
She waited, eyes fixed. The penguin twitched its neck, and another head appeared.
"Oh. There is another one."
The front penguin moved, stepping out onto the ice. Another followed, slower, struggling to keep up. The first reached the group. The second hurried, slipped, and fell.
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Reckless," she said.
Paul glanced at her.
The others stopped. One by one, they turned back and waited.
She smiled faintly.
The fallen penguin stood up, moved carefully this time, and caught up with the group. Together, they marched forward.
"That one looked like you," she said.
"Which one?"
"That one. Wait." She blinked, searching. "They all look the same. All seven of them."
"Yeah."
She stared harder. "But I can tell. The first three look older. Or bigger. The next three look smaller. And the last one…"
Her eyes moved again.
"Wait. Where's the last one?"
Paul turned to her. She was still searching the glass.
…
The sight here was completely different from the place they had just visited.
An amusement park.
People moved left and right. Kids tugged at their parents, asking for toys. The place wasn't crowded. No festival, no special event. Still, the change in atmosphere hit both of them.
"This feels better," Mia said.
Paul didn't reply. He only observed. The Ferris wheel turned slowly. Stalls lined along the sides. Large tents where circus plays were going on inside. Kids playing games. Some winning, some losing.
Everyone enjoying their time here.
"You can at least say something," she said, stepping into his view. "You're quieter than usual."
"What do you want me to say?" Paul replied flatly.
"Anything." She went quiet for a moment. "At least respond like you usually do."
Paul answered with silence.
"Yeah. That's exactly what I was expecting," she muttered under her breath. "Let's keep walking for now."
She tugged his shirt lightly and moved forward. They passed stalls, the smell of spice hitting their noses. Her eyes drifted. She stopped.
"Want to try?" she asked.
"No."
"Expected." She did not bother asking why.
She noticed a small crowd outside a big tent. The banner read: LAST CIRCUS.
"Wanna watch that? People seem to like it."
"Not interested."
"What about the Ferris wheel? That seems kinda fun."
"No."
"Are you afraid of heights or something?"
"I just don't like people screaming for no reason."
"That's pretty harsh of you."
He didn't reply.
They passed stall after stall. Her hand kept hold of his shirt. At least this way, she could feel that he was still there.
She kept asking. He kept declining.
Am I being too pushy?
She glanced at him. He gave her nothing.
Her gaze finally settled on a small tent, a little away from the crowd.
FORTUNE TELLER.
"Let's try that."
Paul followed her gaze. "You believe in those things?"
"Will you come if I say yes?" She smirked.
The tent was small, yes. But it felt like something bigger was waiting inside. He should rather avoid it.
"Just asking," Paul replied.
"So you are interested." She took a step forward. "Let's see what our future holds."
"I don't want to know."
"Oh, c'mon." She stepped back and grabbed his hand. "It ain't even that serious."
She dragged him forward, and he didn't resist. Maybe he was curious.
Inside, the air felt thicker. The smell of burning incense hung in the dim light. A blue-colored sphere rested on the table, spilling a faint glow. You could barely recognize yourself in the dark.
Paul noticed another presence immediately. Across the table, hunched under a hood, sat someone with a crooked back. Her face was barely visible.
"Two of you."
Mia flinched. "You scared the shit out of me… old lady."
She approached the table. The faint glow caught her face as she breathed out.
"How the hell can you see in such darkness? I can barely see myself."
A faint chuckle escaped the old woman.
"I can see everything," she said. "No matter how thick the darkness becomes, or how bright the light grows. I see what exists."
Her voice trembled. Something ancient.
Mia felt a chill crawl up her spine. "She feels like the real deal," she whispered to Paul.
He didn't answer. His gaze stayed fixed on the woman.
"So," Mia said, forcing a smile, "what do you have for us?"
"The future," the old woman replied, sliding a deck of tarot cards onto the table.
"Sounds interesting." Mia leaned in. "What do I do? Pull some cards?"
The old woman's eyes lifted to Paul.
"You too."
He stepped closer, slowly.
Mia glanced at him. Something about his presence felt heavier here.
The old woman nodded once and began shuffling. The cards whispered against each other as she cut the deck again and again.
"Isn't there some category?" Mia asked. "Love? Career? Stuff like that?"
The shuffling stopped.
"It will tell you exactly what you want to know."
"Yeah, sure," Mia muttered.
Three cards were placed down.
One in front of Mia.
One in front of Paul.
One between them.
The old woman's gaze shifted to Paul.
"First you."
Paul stared at the card, like it might flip itself.
"Just flip it," Mia nudged him slightly. "Worst case, it gonna say you dying alone with Six cats."
He blinked once, reached the card and flipped it.
The artwork showed a young figure stepping forward, eyes bright, a smile too relaxed for someone standing that close to the edge.
THE FOOL
Mia squinted at the card, then at Paul. "You are one."
The old lady cleared her throat, and spoke up. "The face of innocence. Unaware of where he stands. Reckless but not stupid.
"That's definitely you." Mia commented.
Paul didn't respond.
The old lady continued, "He walks forward without knowing the ground. Lost. He needs direction. Someone who'll show him the correct path. A right path."
Old Lady's eyes flickered to Mia, she quickly flipped the card.
THE MAGICIAN
"Oh," Mia said, visibly pleased. "This one looks cool."
The old woman nodded. "The Magician guides. Creates change. Appears when needed."
Mia crossed her arms smugly. "Yes, that's exactly me. Don't need to say it out loud."
"The Magician meets someone lost," the woman added. "At first nothing will change, but as the sands drop low, and they will follow the right path— he will become strong and dependable. More capable, who never falls again."
Mia glanced at Paul, her lips curling into a small smirk. "So basically, I'll fix him."
Paul shot her a look. "I don't need fixing."
"That's exactly what someone who needs fixing would say."
The old woman didn't react. She gathered the two cards, then placed the final one between them.
She turned it herself.
THE WORLD
The card shimmered faintly in the blue light.
Mia leaned closer. "What's that one mean?"
The old woman rested her fingers lightly on the table. "When the Fool finds direction, and the Magician chooses the right path, the world is formed."
"Wait wait." Mia covered her mouth with surprise. "Why this... Oddly sounds like us?" She looked at Paul.
"When they both end the final cycle, and reach the end together. They create a world." The old lady finished speaking.
"Together?" Mia's brow lifted up. "Are you listening to this? She said together."
She shook him. "The end of the cycle. We are destined to be together."
Paul didn't react. His gaze stayed on the card.
The world.
Something didn't seem right, or he was just overthinking this? This was how they fool people, it was part of their daily job, of-course they'll be very good at this.
"Say something." Mia asked loudly behind his ears.
"It's just a bunch of carp." He said flatly.
"You are being too serious for no reason." She replied.
The old woman gathered the deck, already losing interest. "The future is simple. People just complicate it."
"See? Completely harmless."
She grabbed Paul's wrist again and pulled him toward the tent flap. As they stepped out into the sunlight, she laughed.
"So we're forming a world now."
Paul didn't answer.
Behind them, inside the tent, the blue light dimmed. The cards lay stacked neatly.
The Fool on top.