It was blank.

They always were.

Jack tossed the little piece of paper on his plate between his unfinished kung pao chicken and the other half of the cookie.

Tess sat across from him at the dimly lit table, pushing the last piece of sweet and sour pork around and around her plate, as though making it do laps would burn off her meal. “You’re twenty-nine,” she said. “Can you ever remember having one that wasn’t blank? I mean, how many have you had? Do you know?”

“Five hundred and thirty-four,” he replied as the pork ran another three laps. “Thirty-five,” he said, as he pulled the fortune from another cookie. “That’s something like one a week since I started counting back when I was sixteen, and including the half-dozen bags I’ve bought over the years.” He tried to pat down his short mop of hair, using the restaurant window as a barely-functional mirror. He poked a few bucks under the tea kettle. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Tess said, wrapping her scarf around her neck.

Jack tossed his Visa on the counter, and handed the clerk a dollar. “For these,” he said, grabbing a handful of fortune cookies from the countertop jar. He jammed all but one in his jacket pocket and signed the receipt as Tess opened the door. As they walked out, the chill in the air made him wish he had a long coat like hers, just maybe in a color other than leopard print. He pulled on his gloves and zipped his jacket, then flipped up the collar against the breeze.

Tess took a couple of steps then stopped abruptly, shaking her head. Jack was fussing with a fortune cookie and nearly bumped into her as she turned around. She stopped him with a finger in the chest, saying, “I guess we’ll never find the car if I lead, huh? Come on, Cookie Monster.” She grabbed his arm, and unceremoniously spun him to face her car. “Were you planning on telling me I was headed in the wrong direction?”

“Your keen sense of direction will take you far,” Jack mumbled as he looked at the fortune.

“You got a fortune?!?!” Tess burbled excitedly.

“Just kidding.”

That earned him a punch in the kidney.

They had known one another nearly three years now, and her curiosity never seemed to wane, asking about his affliction whenever they ate Chinese. Or Thai. Japanese. Korean. Vietnamese. Even Fiori’s served chocolate-dipped fortune cookies nowadays. As they neared her Jeep, she asked, “So—as far as you know—you’ve never had even one that wasn’t totally devoid of even the tiniest blot of ink?”

“Not one,” he replied as he cracked another cookie open. Blank.

Tess’ keys were dangling from her fingers and her normally placid brow was rumpled, eyes searching for something that apparently wasn’t in her purse.

“What’s wrong? Sense a disturbance in the force?” Jack teased.

“Ha, ha,” she sneered. “My phone’s not in here. I must’ve left it on the table. Back in a flash,” she smiled, and started jogging back towards the restaurant.

“Rough day?” he yelled after her.

She turned and jogged backwards, sticking out her tongue.

Jack chuckled as he watched her round the corner, her long, dark braid swinging behind her. He leaned on her Cherokee, admiring the gold trim, and dug the last cookie out of his pocket. He cracked it open, and a car alarm beeped for attention behind him. He turned to look, and across the street saw a distinguished gentleman in a long, black overcoat opening the door of his Beamer.

“Nice coat,” Jack said to himself as he turned back to his fortune cookie. The chill had seeped through his thin gloves and he fumbled with opening it, dropping it into the gutter. He grumbled, and crouched to fish it out of the crumpled leaves. He picked up the fortune, and flipped it over.

“Stay down,” it read.

That’s when the Beamer exploded.