Kismet sat behind the desk in the corner, swallowed by the stacks of books. Now the store was closed, she could put a dent into organizing before her boss came in tomorrow morning. She carefully sorted them into stacks by genre, then smaller piles by author. Kismet listed them all in order on a clipboard.

The store seemed lonely, yet content. With dimmed lights, the shelves of books took on an ancient quality. Their knowledge now existed in shadow. There was little space to move without stumbling on a teetering pile. No matter how cramped the shelves were, Kismet could not say no to a stray book when it was abandoned on their doorstep. Where else would they have to go?

Kismet was well aware what happened to strays. On the day she was born, her mother left the hospital without her. She bounced from home to home, some fit to bursting, but was always alone. When her powers manifested, she knew better than to express the full spectrum of her inner experience. They already thought she was weird, what did it matter if they thought she was crazy too?

Outside the window, the city of Happsburg had gone dark, illuminated by street lights and restaurant windows. Still, people rushed along.

Their thoughts slipped into her own mind like water through cracked pavement. Kismet grit her teeth and popped on her headphones, blasting music to keep them at bay. Heavy metal riffs still struggled to drown them out.

She focused on the books, the way the glossy jackets felt under her hands, the scent of freshly pressed paper, how the spines cracked a little when opened.

… I don’t wanna lose my job…. Gotta pick up the kids from day care… maybe I should just jump, nobody likes me anyway … Liam is so in love with me … I wish Susan would help with her end of the project …

And on and on and on….

Each fluttering thought sent a shock of emotion, an invader into her own body. They flowed like colourful ribbons, trailing through the air or clinging to surfaces. Some faded to pastel, while others remained vibrant neon swirls. She couldn’t avoid them, having to phase through feelings like a phantom. Some were like static, clinging to her no matter how hard she tried to fend them off. At the end of the day, she became a loaded fly trap of other people’s feelings and desires.

Kismet cranked up the volume on her CD player until the headphone speakers distorted. Mouthing the lyrics helped until the hive of thoughts simmered to an incessant hum at the base of her skull. Finally, she heard herself think again.

I should go home.

A familiar aura slipped into the shop. A maroon miasma. She looked up with a smile to see her boyfriend Kevin weaving through the bookshelves toward her. His normally fluffy red hair looked matted and damp from the heavy fog outside. He smiled, but his brown eyes were clouded. It took what strength she had remaining to shut out his thoughts as he approached. It was hard to read facial expression and body language alone, but she tried, still unable to discern his mood. Uncertainty twisted anxiety into her stomach.

Kismet clicked off her CD player and dipped her headphones. The swarm of voices surged and she grimaced, shoving them down, then forced her expression back to normal.

“You gave me a key, remember?" he said. “I thought you’d be happy to see me? Most women would be overjoyed to have their boyfriend come to walk them home.”

“I’m just not feeling well tonight,” she explained and looked down at the book in her hand. A pirate adventure, or on closer look, it was a romance. There was a hint of pink in its aura amidst all the swashbuckling danger. “Just one of those days, I guess.”

Kevin leaned against the counter and rolled his eyes. “I keep telling you, it’s all in your head. You just gotta try harder to get over it.”

The trying might be killing me, but what else can I do?

She bit her lip, darting her sharp hazel eyes around the room, soaking up the books instead.

Kevin snapped his fingers at her. “Hello, earth to Kismet.”

“Huh?”

“You went on another trip to space,” he laughed at his own joke. “You ready to go?”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I am.” She put the unsorted books off to the side and set down her clip board, climbing out of the hoard.

Kismet’s hoodie sleeves drooped over her hands, and she nibbled the cuffs. The fabric was already tattered from chewing. She turned out the rest of the shop lights, and made sure the alarm was on. Kevin led the way out of the store, the tiny bell tinkling as they pushed the door open. It shut behind them. She tested the door handle to be sure it locked.

“It locks every night, come on,” he grumbled, already turning to go down the street.

“I know but -”

He started to walk away and she hurried to follow. The ribbons of colour rippling along the sidewalk contrasted bright against the evening darkness. She was careful not to let anyone even so much as brush against her as they passed. It was much too risky in this state of mind.

When she caught up, Kevin reached for her hand, instinctually, she pulled it away. He glared at her.

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“I’m sorry, I - I just can’t right now.”

“When can you ever?” he grumbled, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I’m sorry,” Kismet muttered. A sob rose in her throat, but she stuffed it down. She stared at her sneakers as they walked. The sidewalk was filthy, littered with cigarette butts and bits of garbage.

Her heartrate accelerated. The voices rose up like white static, all clamouring to be heard. They pressed against the confines of her skull. The ground took on a rippling quality. When she blinked, she saw a different life through the eyes of another passerby. She saw the street from all angles until she was dizzy.

Kismet stopped in her tracks, leaning against the nearest building. The damp brick was cool against her clammy flesh. Her chest rose and fell in rapid heaves. Fingernails dug into the mortar, clinging to reality.

"You gotta be kidding me,” Kevin turned and stood in front of her, hands on his hips. “So dramatic.”

She pressed her hands to the side of her head and slid to the sidewalk before it could come up to greet her. Kismet wove her fingers through her dense curls, desperate for any type of physical sensation to keep her present. A scream welled up to be held prisoner in her throat.

...What is this girl’s problem… so sad… another crackhead… junkie… Is she ok… drama queen, always has to ruin my night… Shouldn’t she go to a hospital… Why are they just standing there… Why am I still with her? She’s useless… Always making a scene…

Kismet saw herself from the eyes of all the onlookers, feel their concern, their judgement, their need to hurry along, it wasn’t their problem. Her face tucked behind her knees with her arms up, fingers locked behind her head.

“She’ll be fine,” Kevin assured anyone that could be bothered to stop and ask.

After a moment, she gradually returned to herself. She opened her eyes and they were finally her own again. Breath flowed through her lungs. In and out. The small crowd had dispersed at Kevin’s insistence, and for that she was actually grateful.

I don’t need anymore embarrassment.

“You done?” Kevin asked.

Kismet nodded and got to her feet. Her stomach rolled, but she was more stable than a moment ago.

“What was that all about?” Kevin demanded as they began to walk again. “Are you ever gonna get this sorted out?”

“I’d like to.” Her voice was so low it was nearly a whisper.

I don’t know who could help me.

The Academy was an option, but Ivy was like a myth. An urban legend to tell the kids to act right or else. They told stories of a friend of a friend, some other kid that had their life-force sucked right out for not eating their green beans.

Not to mention the Watchers she saw on the news, raiding mutant night clubs and hauling them away. They’d come for humans too, but it would have to be for something quite egregious against a mutant.

I can handle it. I’ll figure something out.

“Can’t you take pills for this or something?”

“I’ve tried.”

More like her foster families tried. It would only last for so long before the voices would surge forward, and she’d max out her dose. There would be nothing anyone could do. She spent a stretch of time between eight and ten in a total fog, simply shuffling on autopilot, but the problems persisted. They threatened to have her committed until she discovered the key was not to cause issues for others. If she stayed silent, they considered her cured.

I’m better off alone.

Despite herself, a thick tear slid down her cheek.

They turned down another side street, getting closer to their apartment in the art district. They waded through the fog drifting in from the nearby harbour. Graffiti decorated the dilapidated buildings, infused with the emotions that made them like flashing neon lights in the night.

“Guess what happened at work today,” said Kevin. “We found out Helen in HR is a mutant.”

Kismet tensed, digging her fingernails into her palms. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I mean we suspected for a bit, but now it’s for sure. Can’t fire her or anything thanks to Ivy, but it’s not fair to the rest of us. You know what her power is? Guess.”

Kismet bit her lip, tasting the tang of blood. “What?”

“She can predict five minutes into the future. I mean, how can we compete with that? They shouldn’t be allowed to work with us. I’m never getting a promotion.”

“Helen isn’t even in your department,” said Kismet.

Kevin glowered at her. “Like that matters. It just shows the market place for employees. Us regular guys don’t stand a chance when the Helens can just saunter on in.”

“I don’t see what her abilities have to do with her job -”

“Do you have to argue with me over everything?” Kevin snapped.

“No, but -”

“But nothing. It isn’t fair, plain and simple. Mutants should stay on their own side of things. Keep to themselves. Those ones on the island have the right idea. They should all move over there.”

“Yeah, well, maybe they should,” said Kismet. “Especially if you so called regular guys are gonna be such jerks to them all the time. She’s just living her life.”

He stopped to glare at her. “What do you care? You should be more concerned about me, and my job. What if they replace me with one?”

“That’s unlikely. You’re good at your job, and it isn’t like there’s a mutant out there with the uncanny ability to enter data.”

“Why do you have to be such a bitch?” He demanded and stormed ahead.

The street was close to empty with only swaying oak trees and brownstone townhouses for company. An orange cat scurried across the road, its tail high in the air. Kismet also wished to run. He’d certainly be in a foul mood for the rest of the night.

She hurried after him. Bracing herself for contact, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry.”

He kept walking, practically dragging her along.

Please just look at me.

Finally he stopped. She buried her face in his side, feeling the warmth of his body heat, the ferocity of his sullen maroon energy. She couldn’t bear to be alone. Touch became too much, and she pulled away before her mind could slip again.

At least we’re nearly home.

Some rest and food on her belly should put her right again, shrink the voices down to an incessant whisper.

I’ll be better in the morning.

“I’ll try to be better,” she murmured. The promise became like a mantra. For as long as she could remember, she’d always tried to be better, but never content.