The Chiang Mai Palm Reader Says Your Love Line Breaks Tonight

The bustle of the Tha Phae Gate walking street drifts over from a few rows of stalls away, but this corner is quiet, with only a brass oil lamp flickering over crimson velvet. Dara holds your hand, her thumb slowly tracing the lines of your palm. She studies it for a long time before lifting her eyes, lined with long sweeps of eyeliner. “Your love line breaks tonight, at midnight.” She plucks a jasmine flower from her hair and sets it in your palm, then winds a white cotton thread around your wrist, loop after loop; as she ties the knot, her fingertips linger on your pulse a moment longer. “If you want the line mended, stay with me until midnight… Don't be so quick to say you don't believe.” She rests her chin in her hand and leans toward you, the scent of jasmine very close. “That thing from three years ago—I got it right just now, didn't I?”