Flash Fiction!

Irresistible.  His scent is delicious. His eyes are caring and confident. He’s perfect. You become frustrated. This is a familiar feeling.

Most people fall into one of two categories: they believe that everyone has one soul mate or they believe that the idea of soul mates is ridiculous. You know better. You have several soul mates. As does everyone. You’re only 26 and have already met four of them. Five now, actually. And number five is just as unimaginably perfect to you as one through four were.

Continuing to eye soul mate number five, you remember the time when you told your best friend about your ability to spot your soul mates. Oddly, she had no doubt in what you said. Maybe not oddly. She was one of those suckers who had spent thousands of dollars on psychic hotlines by the time she was 20 and would hand over her social security card to a stranger if they made a convincing enough argument as to why she should. She was a fool, yes. But if you could spot out soul mate best friends, you were sure she’d be the one for you.

You had laughed almost manically when Isabella had called your ability “a gift.” You could see how a lay person could mistake this curse for a blessing, but you had suffered through it too many years to call it anything but what it was: a disaster.

You were engaged before. Four times, actually. You were currently engaged, but you probably wouldn’t be for long. You had a feeling you would be engaged again relatively soon, though. Soul mate number five was new at the office, but you were certain that he would be new to you for only the next day or two. You would feel an unnerving pull to him as soon as he left, and he would feel it too. Then, after a few dates he would want you to meet his family and he’d want to meet yours, both sides would love the happy couple, he’d go ring shopping, you’d ecstatically say yes, and then …

That was the curse. As confident as you were that after summer there’d be fall, you were even more confident that you would meet soul mate number six and fall totally, madly, and deeply in love. You would (guiltily) leave soul mate number five, the soul mate you currently could not stop thinking about even though just minutes before you had no idea existed, and ride off into the sunset with soul mate number six. And then seven. Then eight. Nine. Ten. It was a cycle and you were doomed to repeat it for the rest of your life. Or at least until you ran out of soul mates.

But maybe number five would be different. Maybe this time … You hastily leave your cubicle to go find him. You run into him. He was coming to find you too.

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