Telepathy

‘You must come down to the coffee house.’ She is adamant.

‘Why? What is going to happen there?’ I ask, wondering what is the point of all this.

‘Nothing is going to happen. You just need to come.’ She is adamant.

I pile into the car and head downtown, step into the coffee house and order a dark roast latte, my usual. None of the girls are working there. I just wasted five bucks. I take a seat beside the stack of books on random subjects. The Sikh guy is wandering around floor. He does not talk to me. She walks in with a friend. I know it is she by the silver paper clips in her hair.

‘They are hair pins, not paper clips!’ She does not look too happy.

‘Why silver?’ I ponder as she turns to address her friend. I can’t see her face. I am not sure if it is she or not. I can’t see her friend either. The guy behind the counter brings me my latte and offers to clean my table. This is nice of him, but it blocks my view as she and her friend exit the coffee house. I enjoy my latte, disappointed by another false alarm. I wonder if I will ever know the truth. According to my sister, she ghosted me. ‘Maybe so’, I think as I get up to leave. I drive to my house. ‘I just wasted five bucks.’ I think as I lie on the couch. Always the sucker for telepathy, I will never learn. She thinks it is funny.