[ WP ] You 've been able to read minds since you turned 7 . Mostly you watch people 's thoughts passively and undetected but one day someone talks back .

Imagine an orchestra hall just for one, and the largest symphonic orchestra known to man. Filled with percussion, the string section, tubas, trombones, flutes, piccolos, clarinets, trumpets all the brass, all the cymbals and all of the triangles, filling the air with music. Beautiful on it's own, without a conductor, it becomes madness. 
 
 
 A seemingly orderly, passionate implausible madness, controlled by no one, every instrument playing their own tune, some in tune, some discordant, some playing a major chord, some minor. Some are loud, some are quiet, some project, some fade away. You can always hear the trumpets, but never the bassoon. Occasionally, you'll have a moment of brief pleasantries, but never anything coordinated. 
 
 
 That's how minds come to me. A gift, a curse, it's mostly just background noise after you get used to it. 
 
 
 I ca n't say that it's been all been pleasant. Fights with parents have still been fought with hormones, not with logic, ex-girlfriends tossing me aside with the brush of a hand, the things that you ca n't avoid in life, despite your best efforts. 
 
 
 But it has been *unique*. I thought I was the only one, until Tuesday. 
 
 
 Not just a Tuesday, but *the* Tuesday. A Tuesday that will live in infamy. 
 
 
 I was studying innocently enough at the coffee shop, the kind that only normal people would go, and sat down in a chair that only normal people would sit in. I sat with a posture a normal person would assume and drank the coffee as a normal person would. In fact, everything was so normal that to my mind, I stuck out like a splinter out of a finger. My paranoia aside, everything was normal. 
 
 
 Again, it was a Tuesday. Nothing irregular about that day, save that it might as well have been a Thursday, a Wednesday or a Saturday. Not a Sunday because Sunday brings more responsibility and irresponsibility and insecurity of mind. But, it was a Tuesday, and it was a normal day, for normal people, doing normal things. 
 
 
 Like studying for an exam. 
 
 
 I was on page 236 of the packet, reading about something dreary when she sat down. Looking up, I figure it was a freshman. Judging by the set of books, she was introduction to Asian History course. Several on Mao Zedong and another on Deng Xiaoping. I chuckled to myself. *What a joke. * 
 
 
 *That's what I thought. * 
 
 
 I reaffirmed with myself, again thinking it clever that I could imitate a girl's voice. Looking up, the girl had already set out her books and was reading in her mind the narrative of the Chinese leaders. Again, I thought to myself, a tedious task at best, I was grateful that I was in my last year. 
 
 
 *I know right? * 
 
 
 Impressed again by my own voices of internal thought, I chuckled. 
 
 
 *You should be more mindful of those around you. * 
 
 
 Continuing to chuckle, I looked up. The girl was staring straight into my eye sockets. 
 
 
 *That's rather rude, please stop chortling. We're in public. * 
 
 
 It was then, I realized she was ready *my* mind. 
 
 
 *That's rather rude, intruding on my tho-* Before I could finish, she cut me off with a sharp look. 
 
 
 *You think you're the only one? * She looked rather cu- 
 
 
 *Do n't patronize me! I will burn your face off with this coffee. * Her eyes glared at me. Similar to a small chihuah- 
 
 
 I did n't remember the last few moments before her coffee hit my face, but when I had woken up, all I could see was her back, quickly trudging to the exit. 
 
 
 I will see her again, I thought to myself. 
 
 
 *No, you will not. * She replied. I smiled to myself. Or I tried, as the pain of the coffee burns began to settle in.
