I dropped the phone to the tabletop in exhaustion and let out a light moan to test whether I needed a good cry or to simply sit in the feelings for a minute. My sister was right, clearly: This space – less than 400 square feet including the staircase – was a dump. There was only so long a college graduate could live above the garage of one of their parents’ friends, right? What was I doing?

As my sister had insensitively pointed out, I really didn’t want to be a waiter the rest of my life, but my degree was nearly useless with the newest expansion of A.I. That meant I either needed to get a second job, or I needed to go back to college. I hated both of those ideas.

College was difficult enough the first time, and I was so tired. Not just physically. What I needed was a therapist, but I couldn’t afford one. So how was I supposed to deal with the fact that my sister was the only member of my family still talking to me after my deconversion? Or with the passive aggressive comments on social media from extended family and old friends? Or with the recent breakup? Or with my boss’s pressure to switch to the graveyard shift?

It all just felt like too much. And I had never been confident in my decisionmaking abilities to begin with.

Despite wanting to sit there and cry, I decided to do something about it. I took a deep breath and retrieved my tarot deck from under the bed. I didn’t need the cards to tell me the future; I simply needed help reorganizing my own thoughts and feelings in a visual format. Unlike mother thought, there was nothing supernatural about it.

Or rather, there wasn’t supposed to be.

But as I laid out the cards and prepared to ask my question, the top ones merged, melded, and blue smoke floated up from them to reveal a pet-sized sphinx. Keys hung from great golden antlers, and it flapped its white wings before settling with a catlike grace onto the rest of the deck. I stared at its three bright eyes as it lifted a humanlike hand and doffed its white top hat.

I rubbed my eyes, but the mysterious visitor remained. “Who are you?”

It raised a long fingernail and tapped at one of the keys dangling from its horns. “A messenger from Janus. You’re making a difficult choice after all, are you not?”

I nodded with apprehension as my mind spun. Mythology was a hobby of mine, so I knew all about the two-faced god and the twisted riddles of sphinx-types. It didn’t seem to wish to do me any immediate harm, and I did need help; that’s why I’d spread out the cards, which were now hidden beneath the being’s cute little paws, feathers, and tail. Still, I did not trust it to have my best interest in mind.

“Listen,” it ordered. “Each of the keys hanging from these horns represents a different door you can unlock, a different future if you will. As you can see, you have many more than the two you initially imagined. That’s because I represent all possible outcomes, even the ones you have not thought of.”

My eyes perused the ornaments on its head. Each key was uniquely shaped: one like a cat, one simply bejeweled, one rusty and ancient, one like a wrapped scroll. More red flags rose within my mind: This being was about to make my decisions harder, unless… “I think I want that one,” I pointed to the heart-shaped key.

“That’s not how this works,” the sphinx answered with the click of its tongue and flick of its tail. “You don’t know what they all signify yet.”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t think you’re real, but if you are, then you’re going to try to entrap me with a riddle or difficult decision, and there will be a twist or something you haven’t told me, which will render my choice either meaningless or less than ideal. If I choose before I know the rules, then it doesn’t matter. I’m likely to lament my choice regardless, so what is even the point?”

Three eyes blinked, each in turn, stunned by my words. “If you already had your question answered, why did you summon me?” it growled.

“I didn’t. I was simply trying to make sense of the options before me with a story. Move, and I’ll show you.”

The creature hesitated and finally stepped off the cards, shaking its tail with a sassy twitch as if to clarify that this was its choice.

“Alright, look at this three card draw. This first card shows the problem, which happens to be a crossroads. Truly amazing how frequently I get a reading like this that speaks directly to the decisions I need to make. The next should show complications to the problem. This one is a rest card, which makes a lot of sense. I mean, I’m exhausted and probably need more sleep before I make a big decision like this. Anyway, this last card should be the answer. This one signifies investments, which means the answer I’m looking for is going to be whatever I have already put work into or whatever I want to continue to cultivate in the future.”

“So it’s a riddle in its own right?” The creature clarified with some pleasure in its tone.

I glanced over the cards again before nodding slowly. “It lets me see the problem from a new perspective.”

“So what’s your choice?” It grinned with all its teeth.

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll take the heart key anyway.”

The monster hissed and batted away my reaching hand. “You refused our game.”

I frowned and flicked its top hat, sending it sprawling across the table.

It glared daggers at me before it padded stiffly over to the hat, picked it up, and dusted it off. “I wish all your choices to be painful and -”

“Shoo,” I interrupted and swiped with a kitchen towel at the grumpy sphinx. “Shoo.”

It disappeared in a puff of blue smoke, and I settled back into my chair with a shake of my head. I considered shuffling the tarot cards for another reading but decided not to try my luck twice.

I rubbed my temples and laughed to myself: The only thing that had been made clear tonight was how desperately I needed sleep. Oh well, I thought, most days looked better in the morning anyway.