Business has been slow this week. In fact, it's been slow for the past seventeen years. Slow enough to make affording food impossible, yet not slow enough to spare me the visits of the occasional whiney customer. Everyone comes in wanting to hear the same thing: good news, promise of a hopeful future, or an improvement in financial situations. Unfortunately, this is rarely the case, especially in this part of town, and people don't like to pay for what they don't want to hear. Perhaps if I told them different, I could pay to keep the shop heated and wouldn't be awakened by the cold draft that reliably comes through long before the rays of sunlight do every morning. I cannot tell such lies, though, and chances are, if any psychic tells you anything different, she is most likely a fake. This has been my experience at least. People deserve to know the truth however uneventful or even cruel it may be. Me telling them any different is, in fact, no difference at all. It only creates false hope, fake optimism, and I'd rather brave the winter with no heat and go hungry every few days than be responsible for such a thing.