Expression as sour as a cat recently deprived of a saucer full of whole milk, Lana let out a melodramatic sigh for anyone nearby to overhear. “This place is a scam, by the way,” she pointed out to the short queue waiting outside of the psychic tent’s entryway, head nodding twice over as she attempted to drill in her warning. “I dropped the last of my change in my slushie and the lady in there wouldn’t even let me, like, fish the coins out to pay her with them. I could totally predict your future way better than that stinky old Nanny McPhee.”













