Sitting Alone [pjm+ kth]

Jimin

A small note appeared on the back of my hand with a gentle, familiar sting:

"Get: eggs, milk, and a will to live"

I sip my coffee gently staring at the smooth handwriting on my left hand. They're right handed or ambidextrous. It's always in the same color too, green pen.

I see someone write on their wrist quickly and I sneak a look down at my corresponding wrist. Nothing. My wrist stays bare. I bite my lip waiting for the courage to write back.

I set my mug down and stand walking out of the small cafe. My vision keeps drifting down to the small bit of writing connecting me to them.

The reminder that the universe has someone for me is something I can't begin to explain how happy it makes me. But at the same time I can help but to think that it's not real, and that I'm trapped inside a giant joke.