The waiter gestured toward an empty table in the corner of the room and Catherine walked over and sat down. A few minutes later, she felt someone standing at her side, and looked up.
The woman was incredibly old and thin, dressed in black, with a face that had been washed by time into desiccated angles and planes.
"You asked to see me?" Her English was halting.
"Yes," Catherine said. "I would like a reading, please."
The woman sat down and raised a hand, and the waiter came over to the table bearing a cup of thick black coffee on a small tray. He set it down in front of Catherine.
"Not for me," Catherine said. "I..."
"Drink it," Madame Piris said.
Catherine looked at her in surprise, then picked up the cup and took a sip of the coffee. It was strong and bitter. She put down the cup.
"More," the woman said.
Catherine started to protest, then thought, What the hell. What they lose on the fortune-telling, they make up on the coffee. She swallowed another mouthful. It was vile.
"Once more," Madame Piris said.
Catherine shrugged and took a final sip. In the bottom of the cup were thick, viscous dregs. Madame Piris nodded, reached over and took the cup from Catherine. She stared into it for a long time, saying nothing. Catherine sat there feeling foolish. What's a nice, intelligent girl like me doing in a place like this, watching an old Greek nut staring into an empty coffee cup?
"You come from a faraway place," the woman said suddenly.
"Bull's eye," Catherine said flippantly.
Madame Piris looked up into her eyes and there was something in the look of the old woman that chilled Catherine.
"Go home."
Catherine swallowed. "I--I am home."
"Go back where you came from."
"You mean--America?"
"Anywhere. Get away from this place--quickly!"
"Why?" Catherine said, a sense of horror slowly filling her. "What's wrong?"
The old woman shook her head. Her voice was harsh and she was finding it difficult to get the words out. "It is all around you."
"What is?"
"Get out!" There was an urgency in the woman's voice, a high, shrill keening sound like an animal in pain. Catherine could feel the hair on her scalp begin to rise.
"You're frightening me," she moaned. "Please tell me what's wrong."
The old woman shook her head from side to side, her eyes wild. "Go away before it gets you."
Catherine felt a panic rising in her. It was difficult for her to breathe. "Before what gets me?"
The old woman's face was contorted with pain and terror. "Death. It is coming for you." And the woman rose and disappeared into the back room.
Catherine sat there, her heart pounding, her hands trembling, and she clasped them tightly together to stop them. She caught the waiter's eye and started to order a drink, but stopped herself. She was not going to let a crazy woman spoil her bright future. She sat there breathing deeply until she had gotten control of herself, and after a long time she rose, picked up her purse and gloves and walked out of the taverna.
Out in the dazzlingly bright sunlight Catherine felt better again. She had been foolish to let an old woman frighten her. A horror like that should be arrested instead of being allowed to terrify people. From now on, Catherine told herself, you'll stick to fortune cookies.