The Pacifist

Empath

Joseph

The young woman's restless fingers caught his attention. They twisted around one another as if signing her distress, so he pulled back a bit. "Tell me your name." A part of him thrilled at the shock on her face as she, he imagined, realized she had never given him her name.

"Rachel."

Everything she said seemed like a question. Joseph wanted to tease her and ask her if she was sure, but the poor girl was already so high strung. "Do you have a last name, Rachel?"

"Morowitz."

"Take a deep breath, Rachel."

She licked her lips and took in a breath through her nose and blew out the air through pursed lips.

"What do you think causes your anxiety?"

She shrugged. "Some underlying trauma?"

Joseph nodded. "Yes, that's a safe assumption." Joseph's thoughts tumbled forward but his quiet disposition left it at that.

"So, there are other causes?"

Joseph noted that silence made her uncomfortable, sensing that she only asked the question to fill it. "For people like you, yes."

She sat back and once again, he could see the uncertainty in her face. "Like me?"

"Do you know what an empath is?"

She nodded.

"People like you are like the superhero version of empaths."

Rachel's fingers began to work on a loose thread hanging from her shirt's sleeve, and Joseph watched her face intently while she worked over what he had said. "How do you know?"

"I just do."

"How can I fix it?"

The hope on her face broke his heart. There was no fixing, just learning how to live with the onslaught of feelings that weren't your own. "There's nothing to fix. What I can help you with, is learning to sift through the feelings and figuring out which are yours and which aren't.

"Oh."

"Does that disappoint you?"