Jennifer visited a psychic of some local repute.
In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the mystic delivered grave news: "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just be blunt - prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year."
Visibly shaken, Jennifer stared at the woman's lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself. She simply had to know. She met the fortune teller's gaze, steadied her voice, and asked: