Change.
That was what Dayie had wanted. There was nothing else she could ask for other than that. She swore to herself she will get the change that she wanted when the time is right.
"Dayie," it was a voice. "You are lost."
Lost—that was what her mother called her. She was a gypsy, who foretold fraudulent fortunes. She said that Dayie's future was akin to thick fog. It was uncertain, and what awaits it was something that could be either terrifying or good.
"In the tarot card shows death." Her mother said. "It could either mean you, Dayie, are going to await a path that could lead to doom."
"But…" Her mother smiled. "It could also stand for rebirth." She caressed Dayie's cheek. These were the times she acted like a real mother to her.
