That was enough to set her off. The ancient woman, no taller than the middle of my chest, slammed both her hands down on the table and leaned forward, causing the whole structure to shift. What I thought was the leg of a chair snapping was thunder. I leapt in my seat and tuned to see the sky ripped apart. A wall of water dropped out of the sky all at once, day turning to night with its calamitous decent. Lightning descended and thunder bellowed.

She tsked loudly, bringing me back indoors and to our conversation. The little woman crossed her arms and leaned back, glowering at the ceiling. Her chair teetered back and forth, unsure of whether to keep upright or tumble over.

“Your father is a fool. Is that all he did?” She spoke finally, tiny hands pounding down on the table for punctuation. I nodded, and she metered out a cup of tea. It banished the clamminess from my hands and I brought it up to my lips, nearly gagging. Squinting down into the murky liquid, I trained an eye back on her.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Tea. Good tea, so you’d better finish that.” She waved a thin hand webbed with veins, propping her jaw up to glare across the room. Knowing my turn would not come for awhile, I sipped the caustic brew. It rushed down my throat, peeling off dead skin and stray food. My tongue could not comprehend what it was supposed to taste like. With a sound like air escaping from a crypt, the woman beside me came back to life with a deep breath.

“Your mother was a very good woman. She was good in a way that this world cannot allow. Think on that - someone so gentle and nurturing? It’s surprising she made it as long as she did. It is surprising,” She continued, raising up in her chair as a cat does to stretch.

“That you have made this long too.” Reaching across towards me, her sagely grasp took my hand again. With strength tempered by compassion, she gave it a squeeze. I saw that she was smiling.

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“But, I think soon, your time will come.” These words sent a tremor down my spine and I nearly spat up on her. Coughing the tea down into my stomach, lungs, whatever to clear the way, I managed to stutter a response.

“You think I’m going to die?!” I gasped, gripping the table to keep from wretching. She exuded mirth without laughter, tiny eyes dancing at my concern.

“No, you won’t die. But this city has been weighing on you for too long now. You do not belong in a place where money is the highest currency.” Ms. Maui spoke cooly, tilting her head back to pin me to my seat with her eyes alone.

“You need to leave. Soon. Do you understand?” She asked. The room had grown terribly cold and it hurt to breathe as it does with dry, winter air. There was something overwhelming about her, that which I had never experienced with the small woman. It was a presence or a tenacity of some sort, a subtle hint towards something cataclysmic. This was the tip of a very large iceberg, whether or not I knew it at the time. Her words carried meaning I would not comprehend until later that night when everything unraveled.

“I understand,” I said slowly. The tension eased up and the room unclenched. It filled up with air and the smell of gunpowder tea instead of the crushing void of anticipation that had been.

“But why do I have to-”

She cut me off. “No, no more! I prattled all I care to. I’ll shorten for you: Your Father, foolish. Your Mother, splendid. You, leaving, soon.” Without a chance to protest, the woman was on her feet and to the door, turning the sign over from OPEN to CLOSED. She flicked off the lights and meandered to the kitchen where I managed to catch up with her.

“Hold on. You can’t just tell me to go and not explain anything.” I said, not fully barring her from the door but trying to keep her attention. Scratching the side of her face, she squinted not at me but forward.

“Well, do you want to be here?” She finally asked, gripping the brass handle. Her look this time didn’t drain the room of heat, two ancient coals smouldering deep within her head. I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t find words immediately.

“No, I don’t. But why so urgently?” I managed to ask. From a purple drawstring pouch at her hip she produced another, smaller drawstring pouch, placing it in my hands. She beamed at me, face uplifting into a comforting rorschach.

“Just a hunch, dear. Have some more tea for tonight. This one will taste better, promise.”