We sat outside sipping coffee, the old man didn’t seem phased by the crisp air. “You’re a nice girl,” he said, “you don’t abuse your abilities. You wouldn’t believe the number who need to be taught to be ethical. That’s why I’m willing to teach you.”
“I’m sorry, I have a hard time reading you.” He leaned back and tapped his temple beneath the brim of his hat.
“Can’t read me. You use it too much. We’ll work on that, you’ve got to learn to turn it off, a skill I’ve never had to teach another before.”
I sighed. In a sea of voices he was an irritating blob of nothingness. Just undulating silence in a gilded cage. It was alien to me, to talk to someone and not feel their emotions. I shifted in my seat, and the hot guy from before exited the shop, talking to the Battista. I couldn’t help but watch them go and soak in their lust.
“Ah, you do have a vice.” He grinned at me from behind his mug. “Well, this can be a meaningful exercise. Read them. After they leave, wait 5 minutes and follow. If you win, you watch.