Emma

The shop, somewhere in the middle of the French Quarter, boasted futures told and palms read. The front of the store had shelves lined with jars filled with all sorts of things. There were candles and incense, oils, and books. There was a room with a crystal ball and another with sofas and soft chairs. Edmée and I had been dropped off at the back door and were currently in what was simply a break room with a microwave, coffee pot, refrigerator, ...