The harsh blinking of the carnival lights had stopped hurting Miss Lavender’s eyes over an hour ago. But the combination of the light bulbs blinking in time with the tinny music and the salty sweet smell of caramel popcorn still gave her a dull headache. It was supposed to be an easy summer job, a way to support herself between careers. But the damn carnival paid her a hell of a lot better than a career in piano performance did. She began to wish she were allowed to have a cigarette. “Stupid rule,” she thought, beginning to feel the nagging crave for nicotine, “not supposed to smoke around the darling children.”
Miss Lavender adjusted her turban, a white sheet she had just picked up from the cleaners. The sign in front of the booth where she sat bragged about the “Mystical Miss Lavender: Fortune Teller and Palm Reader Extraordinaire” in bold purple and gold lettering. “Miss Lavender” she snorted, “the name sounds like something out of a fairy tale….I want my happy ending!” she thought. “This is more like hell.” The sweltering heat agreed with her statement, and Lavender half expected the sky to burst into flames.
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