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Published: October 14th 2011
Last night, one of Pınar’s friends, Isma, joined us for dinner. After a light meal of cheese, bread and olives, we enjoyed a cup of Turkish coffee. Made by boiling a superfine powdered coffee with sugar, each cup of Turkish coffee is comprised of two parts liquid and one-part dregs, together totaling about 100mL. Many superstitious Turkish women believe that the leftover sludge contains insights into their future.
When I had finished the drinkable portion of my coffee, Pınar grabbed my cup and began swirling the black gook that remained in the bottom. “Like this,” she said, flipping the cup onto the plate below, “Your fortune. Ready two minutes.” I thought it was a joke, a display of old Turkish custom just for fun, but two minutes later Isma picked my cup up and examined the path the dregs had made on the side of the cup.
With a look of concentration, she proclaimed in broken English, “Your ex-boyfriend. He is contacting you.” I cringed at the thought and informed her that that was impossible. “No,” she clarified, “This is happening already since two weeks. Maybe. Not last boyfriend. One before. He is having blonde hairs.” I had only been half-listening, but now, I snapped to attention. Three weeks ago, my first boyfriend, a blonde, had contacted me to share some unfortunate news. How could she see that in coffee dregs? What else did they show?
I listened eagerly as she illuminated, in great detail, a desire that I’ve harbored in my heart of hearts for a few years now. It’s a future that I’ve imagined for myself thousands of times, and that the remains of my coffee showed coming to pass. In fear of jinxing it, I’ll keep the prophecy between Isma, the coffee, and myself. The part I will share is her prediction that I will be very happy.
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