"I am cursed," said the drunk man. He lifted his gray head, blinking muzzily. "I have visions; I see the future."
"Did no one believe your prophecies?" said the other... man? Woman?
"Bah!" The drunk sneered. "I made no prophecies. They wouldn't have listened. Why would anyone believe me? No, it has been my lot to drown my sorrows and suffer my visions alone."
"I have the gift of hindsight," said the other. "Let me show you." A single, pale finger touched the drunk's sweaty forehead. His eyes widened.
"Oh, God," he said. "I... I didn't know."
"You could have."
Cho on the Practical Merits of Genre Structures
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