During a recent publicity outing, Hillary
sneaked off
to visit a
fortune teller 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, Hillary
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 her
question:

“Will I be
acquitted?”