Candlelight danced around the corners of her closed shop. Not yet ready to brave the cold journey home, Alexandria curled up on the floor and watched the shadows play. It had been an exhausting, though pleasant enough day, and she needed a breath, a moment to herself. Her finger traced along the lines of the tattoo inked across her inner left forearm. The soft scratching from her nail soothed this evening's dash of precipitating existential turmoil. Up and around the frame of the tarot card her fingertip went, reaching the corner then its way wiggling down the Hermit's cloak. The Hermit, how the card had sung to her over the years. Alex couldn't help but wonder if his mark had cursed her in ways, stunting her growth, binding her to solitude.
A stick of sandalwood incense burned on the counter. The smoke carried reflections of the past as it rose to the rafters. As with everyone's, Alexandria's had been a life of lessons. Some painful. The majority of them good. One of the foremost and most paramount was how much better she did on her own. That had been a tough, excruciating realization to accept. Alex's business, the conception, the execution was hers alone. The small chic spot had evolved from a cheap store front on the far side of town. At the time the area was dismal, appeal sparse, but rent was cheap and she'd jumped years prior to neighborhood’s renaissance into the hip hub it was now. Then, even when it had only been a small investment, there were many naysayers. Her parents, her friends, her ex. A few lended a hand in the move but most left her to flounder and fail. Despite them, she had the vision, and Alex learned not only to trust her intuition, but to have unwavering faith in her abilities, spirit and tenacity. Through the highs and lows, she'd enjoyed each step.
There was a formula that made sense to Alexandria. By shifting her homelife from a fantastic apartment to a tiny room in a chaotic share house she could balance the books, and afford pursuing a long standing dream. The financial difference in rent would cover her new accommodation as well as the store. At first the space served more as a clubhouse and personal studio than anything else. Her old trinkets, clothes, and furniture were used to service the shop. Some of the old furnishings remained over the years, most sold. She shelved only her art, and belongings. As those were purchased, she added vintage clothes, and cute furniture she'd find, slowly turning her hobbies to her livelihood.
Alex was in heaven. The money she pulled in from working weekend nights bartending was more than enough to support the shop as well as her room rental. She spent her mornings editing her photos, painting, and tending to the occasional customer that wandered in. Friends would drift by for coffees, teas, and her sanctuary became a meeting place. Short collaborations were incited and executed, performances and events hosted, most of all, joy shared. In her spare time Alex wandered, and shopped guilt free, mining garage sales, and flea markets for vintage goods, and forgotten treasures, restoring them for the world, or at least her customers, to appreciate. Sure enough, Alex's finds, alternations, and creative whims moved from the shelves to people's homes. A gorgeous cycle of discovery, creation, and release. Shopping habits turned into a business plan, money spent finding great outfits for herself became investments which she flipped in her shop as she got new ones.
And for a long time she couldn't be happier. Her creativity was a furnace, the more that was added the more the internal fire roared. Behind the till she added a sewing machine, and her shop shifted from vintage gold to unique textile collages. As the years passed the shop's popularity and revenue increased. By thirty, Alex was focused, expressing herself, and completely self-sufficient. Real money began filling the till and shifts at the bar lost their necessity. The costumers beyond loyal patrons had became a community. Revenue was enough to afford help but too little to leave the shop solely in the hands of others to run- not that she’d ever want that. Objectively, things were good. Everything was in its right place.
The flames flickered again. A shadow rolled across her tattoo. She was still alone.
And maybe that was ok.
Alexandria sighed. Perhaps rather than celebrating her faith in intuition, and inner wisdom as she'd intended, the ink had locked her into a life of isolation. That was fine, she supposed. A fair bargain. The Hermit looked to her from beyond his hood, maybe that was part of the problem. That the image was upright to Alex's eyes but upside down with the rest of the word. In the moment she couldn't help but feel as lost as the tattoo's meaning was on others.
Despite the accomplishments, the small accolades, her life felt like a beautiful, wounded saxophone solo. Gorgeous, and haunting. There was a hole in her heart. Something was missing. The Hermit knew. The Hermit knew in the alchemy of life, the Midas touch was found in a gentle, and kind perspective. That the hole was reserved for growth to the whole, not for the filling. Alexandria rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling. The challenges of self love, self sufficiency had been completed, where was the next step? Was this a fee for being passionate? Did one have to choose between following their dreams or sharing loving adoration with another?
The incense had burned out. She stood, straightening her clothes as she rose. Was she really happy? Today, no, not exactly, Alexandria could admit that. Overall she was pleased, content, but not satisfied. Alex made her way to the small kitchen in the back, weaving through the racks of beautiful clothing, running her fingers over the different fabrics. A reflection of the tattoo flashed from a mirror, and she found gratitude. She was grateful for her choices, glad she'd thrown herself upon her sleeve. There was kinsmanship between her and the card, seeing the world from a different vantage point, fearless, bold, and steadfast.
If happiness comes in waves then she'd wait. Patient for a worthy one. For now, she'd take care. In a cupboard she went for a bottle of red, and then thought better of it. Sulphur cut the air as Alex struck a match, and ignited the stove's element. She reached for a small pot, a carton of oat milk, a bar of rich dark chocolate, and a few spices. Cardamom, Cinnamon, and a pinch of Chili. Financially Alex may not be rich, but that didn't mean her life couldn't be. She'd stay in again, and find the love she craved within. The cards would turn soon, and it wouldn't be long before fortune's wheel spun in her favour. When it did, and it was time to share her love, Alexandria would be ready.
Thanks for reading!
-Mr. Write
PS: Be sure to check out Exaggerated Shadow’s new release for Scor without Woe on all your favourite streaming platforms!