The Art of Palmistry

A finger traces one of the lines on his palm, making him jump. The boy pays it no mind, saying, “This is your happiness line. It starts a little late but coincides with the beginning of your love line here.” He presses down on the line parallel to it. Remus’ pulse jumps. “You’re not in love, are you?” he asks abruptly.

I think I’m about to be, Remus thinks absurdly.

(Alternatively: Remus, a sceptic, goes to get his palm read by a fortune teller. Gay panic ensues.)