VIII OF WANDS
The Eight of Wands is like waking up before dawn, tearing through a door to an open field and making a bee-line for the eastern horizon.

NINE OF CUPS
I sighed as I rubbed water marks off the cups my mother asked me to set out on the dining table. My cousin’s long blonde curls swept over my arm as she placed forks over napkins I knew the perfectionist in me would have to refold. Still, there was a warmth that...