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"Do we have any new people here today?" I ask, smiling brightly. My glasses slip a little bit down the bridge of my nose, so I push them back into place. Everyone looks around, but no hands go up in the air.
"I suppose not. So, who wants to start us off in how our weeks went? And no, Ally, it can't be you because you've started us off every week since--"
A guy bursts through the door. He struggles to stuff fallen papers back in his briefcase and his hair is an absolute mess.
"Sorry I'm late. I couldn't get out of work until late and - yeah." The man is young and handsome, with bright hazel eyes that stand out from the rest of his face, even under his glasses, like two bright stars. His hair is very dark - very dark brown and not quite black, but almost - and skin that's been darkened just so by the sun.
"Hey! Have you checked in with...?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I point in the general direction of the front desk. He gives me a look, confused, but then makes a face that signals understanding.
"Oh, right. Yeah. We're all good," he replies. The guy looks so adorably awkward, standing there in his big, rectangular glasses and ill-fitting tweed jacket.
"Well, welcome to SSG, Superhuman Support Group. You can take a seat next to Debbie," I say after a brief pause, motioning towards the empty seat next to the kind old lady who can read minds. The man sits down and Debbie takes a quick glance at him, her face scrunched up in thought. It's overwhelmingly clear that she knows what he is thinking, and she throws a look my way. In return, I roll my eyes.
"So what's your name?" I ask, crossing my legs as I prepare to jot down notes in my notebook.
"I'm Christopher."
I nod my head to the rest of the group and gesture with my hands, a silent countdown to when we all say, "Hi, Christopher." It's a customary practice for the whole group to welcome a new member.
"Hey, Christopher. Can I call you Chris?" He nods. "I'm Taylor. So, why have you joined us here today?" I ask, smiling gently at him. Beaming too brightly tends to make people think I'm a little nutty, so I keep it subtle.
"Well, uh... You see, I'm not a big fan of the water. Always hated swimming and I opted for showers as a kid because I didn't like baths. Too much water, you know? Even showers left me shaking afterward because I was so uncomfortable and afraid. So... yeah. I mean, my mom drowned in a pool, and it's left me a little... for lack of a better word, traumatized. That's what some doctor said. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." Debbie reaches over and touches his shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. Chris lets out a deep, long sigh, then continues.
"Around a year and a half ago, maybe a little longer, I learned that I have a rather... unfortunate ability, at least for someone who's had the experiences I've had. It's not hard to imagine how upset I was when I learned that I can... well, uh... control water," Chris breathes out. I know it kills him to say it. The whole group lets out a collective aww.
