The coffee was rich. The tale it told was richer.
I’d come to Mnimes Apo Tin Poli — one of a dying breed of Greek coffee shops — not for the grainy, sweet brew served in tiny cups. But for its whispers of my future.
On the outskirts of Athens, this oddly modern, heavily mirrored shop is one of a few where you can still get your fortune told by the sediment left behind in the cup, an art once practiced across Greece, Turkey, and the Middle East.
I drank, overturned the cup, and waited for the dregs to drip and dry.
