#reddoored

The man had caught his attention several blocks over. After months of living in New Orleans and hunting that indescribable, almost magical, feeling that occasionally trickled into him, Mike had learned to look for signs. This man, with his impeccable suit, and confident stride screamed of someone important. Without warning, Mike collided with the man in question, spilling his drink all over that expensive suit.

“Shit, sorry. I’m so sorry! I’m such a klutz.” His hands brushed over the other man’s, gasping as a jolt of power flooded through him. “Name’s Mike.” He smiled, quickly catching the stranger’s hand in a firm handshake. “I-I wasn’t looking where I was going. It was my fault - totally my fault. I feel awful.” He babbled, keeping the man's hand in his as his skin continued to tingle from their contact, “Do you have a cell? I, uh, I’ll pay for your dry cleaning - it’s the least I could do.”