What Kind of Psychic Are You? (WitchVox)

[icymist]

I placed my hands gently on the woman’s feet as she lay face up on the massage table before me. Like the expanding warmth of a sunray on cooled skin, I let my attention soak up her legs and into her body. I felt my awareness meld with her body; let my sensors shift into a different way of seeing and feeling. Her hips felt thick, like the bones were coated in caulk. My focus shifted higher, into her abdomen, where I met a sluggish, unhappy heat. She had complained of stomach pain, and worried that she was forming an ulcer. My awareness drifted around her intestines and the inside of her stomach.

“I don’t see an ulcer. That doesn’t mean it’s not there, but it feels more to me like general indigestion. Like anger.”

She seemed surprised, but asked, “Can you tell who I’m angry at?”

I sat with the churning, stifled heat for a moment. “I get a sense of a general anger. Anger at people for leaving you, and life for being in a less than ideal situation.”

She nodded, but said nothing to confirm or deny my observation.
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