I didn’t go to my senior prom. Instead, I went to the after-party at the local YMCA. Somehow around three in the morning, I got wrangled into having a session with the tarot card reader the school had brought in for entertainment purposes (right between the hypnotist and the raffle drawing for QT gas cards). The guy was nice enough; he had a big beard and some weird little top hat. He said I reminded him of his daughter. I said he didn’t remind me of my father. And then he pulled the cards.