"One scotch on the rocks." The bartender, dressed in a typical white-button down and black vest, says as he places my drink in front of me.

"Thanks," I mutter drunkenly, looking at him and sliding my drink towards me.

He says something in response, but my attention has dissipated, and subsequently, his voice is drowned out in the music and conversations. I lift my body weight off the bar and stumble back towards my table. Bumping into people as I go. Colors erupt out of their bodies and into my mind with each one.

Green and nurturing - 25 Years left - Cancer - engineer - analytical. Son of two, father of two, brother of none.

Orange and confused - 65 Years left - Complications with age - businesswoman - creative/analytical. Mom of two, sister of one, daughter of two.

Yellow and vibrant - 2 Years left - Car accident - architect- artistic. Son of two, Cousin of one, brother of none.

With each person I bump into, their whole remaining life flashes into my mind. So easy to dissect each one. Yet, in my drunken state, I can't help but think about the first time it happened. When it was maddening and impossible to control.

I was in first grade, and my best friend, Ruth, kissed me on the cheek. I collapsed on the ground, seizing, and my eyes rolled back. Then, I started chanting unfamiliar words as Ruth ran away screaming. Seconds later, her life force flew into my mind. It was a vibrantly beautiful pink soul:

3 days - Car Accident.

Several days later, in the hospital, where doctors had run several tests and concluded this a “freak accident,” I awoke screaming, scared, and confused. Somehow managing to calm down after only a few minutes. Once I had calmed down, my parents partially explained what had happened.

After hearing what I had done, I felt terrible and asked if Ruth was okay. My parents looked at each other.

"Oh, don't worry about Ruth, she'll be fine. She's in a batter place," they said.

But even then, I understood what that meant, "Was it a crash?" I asked, choking up on the verge of a breakdown.

My parents were shocked that I knew and started questioning me rather than providing much need emotional support. I told them the truth repeatedly, but they merely scolded me for lying. I still remember the sting of their words as I pleaded with them that I was telling the truth.

"We know you're sad Karin, but it's never good to lie."

Eventually, they decided that I must've heard them talking while unconscious. And told me not to make up any more stories, especially in serious situations.

With my best friend dead and my parents branding me a liar, I cried for days, feeling distraught and alone, and decided to keep my power a secret.

All the "Freak Accidents" were like this in the beginning. Often leaving me incapacitated for days, where I would unconsciously "scream gibberish," according to my doctors. Then, waking up in the hospital days later, knowing when the time would expire for yet another person. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Epilepsy and given medication. Medication that never worked and constantly changed. After that, most of my childhood was spent bouncing in and out of hospitals and therapy.

Upon growing older, I started understanding my power, as Friends, families, and pets started dying when I had foreseen. At first, I could only dissect the time of death of those with whom I had established a strong emotional connection. Eventually, however, no one could escape the prowess of my ability, and their whole lives unraveled in my head. Even the side effects got better with time until they were virtually nonexistent. Friends, Family, and Doctors celebrated as they believed my Epilepsy had gone into remission. Only I knew the truth.

A couple years later, after dropping out of college, I became a famous fortune teller on the black market. Bouncing around from city to city, wherever the highest bidder resided.

Suddenly, I'm pulled back into reality. I drop my drink, and it shatters on the floor. I whip my head around, searching to find the person who just bumped into me. Several stop and look at me, but I'm unconcerned.

Nothing. No color, emotions, abilities, or lifestyle. No future. No death. Where? Where are they? I look around frantically. Then I see them, the only person in the bar whose life I can't recall.

A tall woman with black sunglasses and a long dark overcoat. Her stride was peculiar and rushed as if she was running from something… trying to blend in with the crowd.

"Hey, wait!" I scream, towards the woman, as I steer towards her.

She turns and sees me. Her face goes grey with fear, and she bolts out the side door.

I run after her and burst into the alley behind the bar. I glimpse her figure as she dips around the corner and out of sight.

I run around the corner after and watch as she slips into another bar. I follow quickly, nearly tripping over the doorstep.

I burst into the bar, swinging the doors open crazily and panting loudly. Only to be met by silence.

The bar is empty, except for the woman standing there.

"Hello Karin, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

—-

Fuji Jufi Writes