#iwrites

I was walking down the street when it happened. Running late, trying to shove my way through the last few people to get to the bus stop before the bus left me behind to wait in the cold for another twenty minutes for another way to get to class.

I was brushing past at least three people each second, so it wasn’t a surprise when one of them sort of grabbed my hand in passing.

It was nothing like I had expected it would be.

Bright flashes of color danced in front of me for mere seconds.

The hat on the girl in front of me was green, her shirt was red.

The trees were brown, the few leaves that were clinging to the branches were a coppery orange or hues of yellow.

The grass - well, what was left of it - was a dull, dark, green, with spots of brown soil peeking through it.

I don’t know how I knew the names of the colors, or why I was seeing them.

But as soon as I saw them, they were gone, and everything was black and white, different shades of gray in between.

I turned back, trying to see who had touched my hand, but I couldn’t distinguish anyone with a similar expression to mine in the crowd.

So I kept going, my heart racing in my chest at the experience I’d just had.

I made it to the bus just before the doors closed, and managed to get a spot with a railing to hold onto.

All day I thought about who it could be, my soulmate. I knew they were somewhere on this campus, or at least they were this morning.

I’d been just outside my dorm, so they must be a student or at least someone that comes there regularly.

For the next week, every day on my way to class, I was looking around, trying to find someone that looked the least bit familiar, someone that I’d perhaps seen while I’d been moving through the crowd.

I became frustrated, because I didn’t know how to figure out who this person was. It wasn’t like I could touch everyone’s hand that I saw.

Before long, I had all but given up. I hadn’t seen any more colors, which meant that I hadn’t touched my soulmate again.

On one particular morning, I was feeling quite sad about not knowing who it was, and unfortunately I had to walk to class.

I didn’t count on not seeing the patch of black ice in front of me, and I slipped, falling to the ground.

“Are you alright?” someone asks.

I nod, and take the hand that’s offered to pull myself up, gasping once I look at them.

I check the mailbox for the third time today, still finding it empty. When was it supposed to get here?

“Just be patient,” my mom say when I come back through the front door.

I groan, flopping down into a chair at the kitchen table.

“How long did yours take?” I ask.

“I got mine at midnight,” she replies. “The night before.”

“Well, why can’t mine be that early?” I question.

“Not everyone gets theirs at the same time,” she assures me. “How about we go to Starbucks and get some pumpkin spice to help with the waiting.”

I nod, then go get my sweatshirt from my room.

We drive over to Starbucks, which isn’t too far, but it’s far enough that we have to drive, we can’t walk.

“Good morning, what can I get for you today?” the barista asks me when i walk up to the counter.

“Two pumpkin spice lattes please,” I answer.

She nods, and then turns to make the drinks.

When we get back home, I check the mailbox again, and it’s still empty.

“Your eighteenth birthday isn’t technically for another two hours,” my mom reminds me.

I roll my eyes. “Is that how it works? It’s the exact time you were born?”

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. How about you go watch some TV. I’ll call you if I see the mailman come by.”

It seems strange, not doing anything on a Tuesday. But everyone is given their eighteenth birthday off of school, work, whatever. Because it’s a very important day.

I just don’t understand why it’s taking so long.

I must have fallen asleep, because I open my eyes to my mo shaking my shoulder gently.

“It’s here,” she says, holding out a small white envelope.

I take it quickly, ripping it open and digging the small piece of paper out from inside it.

“What does it say?” she asks.

“Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?”

“No, really, what does it say?” she asks, leaning over to look at the paper for herself.

“That’s what it says,” I say with a groan. “That’s the sentence I hear the most often, why does it have to be something like that?”

“Well, we do go there almost every day,” she says. “That means you’ve got a bigger chance of finding them sooner.”

We do go there pretty much every day. The thought calms me down a little.

But I still can’t sleep when I go to bed that night.

“Good morning, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get you?”

“Welcome, what would you like?”

“What can I get for you?”

“What do you want?”

“Welcome to Starbucks. It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?”

“We’ve got a discount for students today since it’s finals week. Are you a student?”

“Nothing like caffeine on a morning like this.”

A year and a half has gone by, and I still haven’t found them. No one’s said the greeting the exact way that it’s printed on the small piece of paper that I always keep in my pocket.

My heart skips every time I walk through the doors, excited by the possibility that this might be the time that I find my soulmate.

But even though it’s gotten very close a couple times, they’ve never said the right words.

One morning, I’m late. So late. I’ve got a class that starts in ten minutes, and it takes eight to walk there. I don’t have time for coffee today.

The disappointment that runs through me during the entire lecture makes me want to cry, but it’s nothing compared to the though of never finding my soulmate.

I trudge out of class, and across campus to another, only to find out that it’s been cancelled.

Well, that’s something good that’s come out of today.

I walk down the street, not really sure what to do with the extra time that I’ve been given, and I see a sign for a Starbucks just around the corner.

Might as well, what can it hurt?

I walk through the door, and a bell rings, echoing in the empty space.

It doesn’t really phase me. Most everyone on campus is in class now, and those who aren’t wouldn’t be out of bed yet if they were smart.

I step up to the counter, then ring the bell after a few seconds of waiting.

I hear a crash in the back, and then someone’s footsteps getting closer.