A Stranger Warned Me Not To Go Home. I Found A Strange Silk Scarf In My Hallway. How Do I Catch My Husband Red-handed
The Omen at the Grocery Store
Valerie Thompson never believed in omens. At 35, she had a degree in economics, a 14-year-old son named Chris, and a management position at a large retail chain. She was used to relying on facts, figures, and logic.
That was why, as she walked out of the grocery store that afternoon with two bags full of items for dinner, the last thing she expected was an encounter with the inexplicable. The September air was warm and pleasant; the sun was already leaning toward the horizon, dying the sky an amber hue.
Valerie was in a hurry. Chris would be back from practice in half an hour, and she needed to make something substantial. At 14, the boy ate like three people, especially after soccer.
She paid at the register, put the card back in her wallet, and headed for the exit. The bags were heavy in her hands: potatoes, ground beef for burgers, salad greens. At the automatic doors, Valerie tried to get a better grip on the groceries and heard the characteristic jingle of metal on the tile floor.
Turning around, she saw her keyring on the ground. It had evidently fallen out of her jacket pocket as she adjusted the bags.
“Hold on,” a woman’s voice resonated, low and husky.
A woman in a brightly colored floral skirt and a worn leather jacket was already bending down for the keys. She had a bohemian look. Valerie tensed up involuntarily; there were many like her in the city, and encounters usually ended with persistent requests for a palm reading or panhandling.
The woman picked up the keys and walked toward Valerie. She was probably in her early 30s, with a tan face, strong features, dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and black, lively, observant eyes. Several gold chains hung around her neck, and her hands were adorned with multiple rings.
“Here, you dropped these,” she said, holding out the keyring.
Valerie was already bracing herself for the typical “Let me read your fortune, honey.” But the woman suddenly froze, staring at the keys in her palm. Her face changed as if she had seen something shocking.
A Mysterious Warning
Her fingers closed around the metal. Her brows furrowed, and her lips tightened.
“Listen to me very carefully,” her voice became low, serious. “Don’t go home tonight. And tomorrow morning, you must go by your husband’s office. It’s important.”
Valerie was baffled, then she smiled. Right, of course: the classic trick. Scare, intrigue, and then demand money to remove a curse or whatever else they invent.
“Thanks for the keys,” she took the key ring from the woman’s warm palm. “But I’m not interested in a fortune telling.”
“I’m not telling your fortune,” the woman looked at her strangely. There was something akin to pity in her gaze. “Just believe me,” she said. “I know about these things. Believe me.”
Valerie shook her head, pulling a $10 bill from her wallet. After all, the woman had picked up her keys, and that deserved a thank you. While this whole performance with a mysterious face and mystical warning seemed unconvincing, refusing to give a small reward would be cruel.
“Here, have a nice evening,”
The woman took the money mechanically, never taking her eyes off Valerie’s face. Disappointment flickered in her eyes; she had clearly expected more.
“You don’t believe me. But remember: tomorrow morning, go to your husband’s office. You’ll see for yourself, and then you’ll remember my words.”
Valerie nodded, not wanting to continue the strange conversation, and walked to her car. As she got behind the wheel, she glanced in the mirror.
The woman was standing by the entrance of the grocery store, watching her with a sad expression. Then she turned and walked away slowly, tucking the bill into the folds of her skirt.
