You Shouldn't Worry About Frogs

YOU SHOULDN’TWORRY ABOUT THE FROGSEliza Marley Querencia Press, LLCChicago, Illinois QUERENCIA PRESS© Copyright 2023Eliza MarleyAll Rights ReservedNo reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission.No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the author.Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.ISBN 978 1 959118 25 1www.querenciapress.comFirst Published in 2023Querencia Press, LLCChicago ILPrinted & Bound in the United States of America For my family and friends who have endured many ramblings of fragmented stories in progress. Thank you for your unwavering support and love. Please know it is returned tenfold. ContentsAt the Bottom of the CupChewing On ItMise en AbymeIf There’s a Ledge to Hang FromBuried in the SteepA Pause, Before ProceedingApopheniaSmall TalkYou Shouldn’t Worry About the FrogsPrevious Publication Notes At the Bottom of the CupAnne always drove too fast. It was after midnight now and the road home was hazy with fog as it wound through the woods. There were no streetlights in the older parts of town, just cracked, glowing paint and the occasional rusted railing to remind you where the cliffs were. She had stayed too late at the shop again, reluctant to return to her dark and empty apartment. Anne yawned, keeping her eyes dead ahead where her high beams bounced off the fog and back towards her. A burst of dark brown fur rushed into view and Anne slammed on the breaks.The deer stared at Anne, nostrils flared and eyes shining in the darkness. It was too thin, its fur matted and missing in patches. This is what happens when people build all sorts of new, fancy condos way out into the woods. All the animals get scared off and come running. Anne didn’t really see the point of it all; it wasn’t like they would be winning any metropolitan awards anytime soon. The poor thing was starving. It was probably trying to get someone to put it out of its misery. The deer tilted its head, a curious expression on its face. Everyone said you were just supposed to hit them, rather than risk swerving off the road. Anne beeped her horn and the deer sprinted away, disappearing again into darkness.…Madame Irva’s Tea Room specializes in Psychic Tea Leaf Readings. It had all the essentials: dark curtains, burning incense, and a large crystal ball on the reading table that no one ever touched except when dusting. This was only Anne’s second week working alone. Irva had left for a vacation to Florida with her husband. She had loaned Anne some dark lipstick and a couple of her blouses with long, flowy sleeves.Anne was learning more about the art of tea leaves every day. It was interesting, and she was starting to understand why people got so into it. The problem was there were so many symbols and they always looked way clearer in the manual than they ever did in a teacup.Now, there was a young woman across from her. She was chewing on her lip, tapping her fingers against the table. She had asked about where the tea they used was sourced from and if it contained sulfates. Anne was also chewing her lip, trying to maintain a sense of mystique as she tried to determine what the hell she was looking at.Was it an apple? Or a circle? Maybe a lumpy smiley-face? What did those ones mean? The woman was watching intently and Anne was drawing a total blank. She plastered a smile to her face, hopefully looking like she was communing with the spirits themselves, and gently rocked the cup. Then, she carefully tilted it until some of the leaves spread out, thinner and thinner, keeping her sleeve out to cover the movement. Finally, one she knew.“Alright my dear, you see the arrow here at the top of your cup?” Anne turned the cup around so the woman could see. The woman’s brow creased and then smoothed again.“Yes, I think so. What does that mean?”“An arrow at the top of the cup usually means good news is coming your way.”“Does this mean I’ll get the promotion?”“Well, it can. But an arrow can also be a cautionary symbol, you may need to tread carefully with revealing your goals. It can also mean that you will be succeeding ahead of others. It’s not pointed down, which is good. I’d say aim high, but don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”The woman drummed her nails faster on the table, “So do you think I should ask to meet with my boss and ask him directly?”“I would say let your work speak for itself for now, but don’t be afraid to take an opportunity that presents itself to you.” The woman must have decided that was an acceptable answer because she tipped with a ten before leaving.Anne blew out the candles and switched on a small lamp. It was getting late and she doubted there would be any more walk-ins. Just as she got comfortable in her chair, the bell jingled at the front. She watched through the reflection on the crystal ball as a man walked in, tall and thin with his face hidden by hunched over shoulders and a mop of dark hair.This was the most important part of any reading. Anne watched his distorted figure through the crystal ball as he stood stock-still in the shop, taking in his appearance. What would this man ask about? Money? Family? The man did not move, almost like he was hoping to just melt into the floor. No tells so far, he didn’t even call out to see if anyone was in.“One moment dear, I’ll be right with you,” Anne shouted. The man startled but did not look up. Well, he would be a surprise. Anne put aside her book and went to the front, pulling back the beaded curtain. “Welcome Sir, are you here for