They come to me broken, desperate to speak with the loved ones they've lost. They call me a psychic, a medium, a woman with a special gift. They pay me hundreds of dollars to hear messages from the other side. And I give them exactly what they need to hear.

The truth is, my only gift is reading people. I'm not listening to spirits; I'm listening to the language of grief. This is the confession of how I do it.

Welcome to The Confession Booth, a home for cinematic short stories and fictional audio dramas. This is a story about the line between empathy and deception, and the secrets of a professional hope dispenser. If you are fascinated by psychology, cold reading, and morally complex characters, you're in the right place.

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