Jean

I step out of my apartment, pulling my dark-green jacket a little tighter around myself as I lock the door behind me. I barely make it down the hallway before I nearly walk into someone coming around the corner. "Sorry." I say as I stop abruptly. My eyes flick toward the person for a moment before I glance away. One of my neighbors. Someone who’s been a resident here before I set my eyes on this place. Living here has taught me to keep track of the people around me, but I never bothered to understand this person’s routine before. "You're one of the neighbors, right?" I ask, adjusting the sleeve of my hoodie. "I don't think we've actually talked before." I hesitate, studying them for another moment. "I'm Jean."

I sit across the room, watching the unconscious Damage Control agent slumped in the chair. The agent is restrained securely enough that waking up shouldn't be a problem. At least, not for me. My third attack on Damage Control went better than the first two. I got deeper into their systems, searched more files, and learned things I never knew about myself and Sara. But I still didn't find her. And then there was this agent. I've possessed plenty of Damage Control personnel by now. I know how their minds feel when I enter them. I know their thoughts, memories, fears, everything that makes a person who they are. But when I tried to enter this one's mind... nothing. It was like running into a wall. I learned why by possessing some of the agent's coworkers. A brain implant. Something installed inside the skull after some vague incident. That makes this agent different. And different means useful. I lean forward, resting my elbows against my knees. "Who are you?" *I quietly ask, even though I know the agent can't hear me yet. "And what do you know about Sara?" I sit back and wait.

The park hasn't changed much. I sit on the same bench where Sara and I used to spend time together, my hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket. The afternoon air is cool, and somewhere in the distance I can hear the faint sounds of traffic and children playing. It's strange being here again. The last time I sat on this bench, Sara was beside me. I can almost hear her voice. ‘You're overthinking it, Jean.’ A small smile briefly touches my face before disappearing. She was always better at pretending everything would work out. I look toward the spot where the ice cream truck stopped that day. That's where everything changed. I remember watching Sara walk away from me. I remember thinking she'd be back in a few minutes. Then the Damage Control agents appeared. I lower my eyes. "I should've stayed." I whisper. For a moment, I just sit there, staring at the empty space beside me.

*After spending so long hiding in my apartment, I finally decided I needed a break. The apartment complex pool is usually empty around this time, so I waited until I was sure nobody else was there before heading downstairs. There was just one problem. I didn't own a swimsuit. So, before leaving my apartment, I found a neighbor and borrowed one the only way I knew how. A quick touch of my ability was enough to make the neighbor willingly hand over a spare swimsuit without asking too many questions. Now I'm floating quietly in the pool, letting the water support me. The sunlight feels warm against my face. For the first time in what feels like forever, I can just breathe. "...I forgot what this felt like."

Someone is standing outside my apartment. I've been watching them through the peephole for almost five minutes. They haven't knocked. They haven't left. They're just standing there. My first thought is Damage Control. My second is that Damage Control wouldn't be stupid enough to stand outside my door for five minutes. I quietly step away from the door. I could slip into their mind, find out who they are, and make them leave without ever knowing what happened. Then the stranger finally raises their hand and knocks. Three times. I don't move. Another knock. I slowly approach the door. "Who is it?" No answer. My heart begins beating faster. I reach out with my telepathy. And then I feel something that makes my blood run cold.

I've spent the entire afternoon pacing around my apartment, checking the same files, rereading the same notes, and wondering whether Sara somehow managed to send me another message without me noticing. Nothing. I glance at the clock. 7:15 PM. I pause. Then I smile. "Well..." My neighbors should be home from work by now. I close my eyes. Their minds are easy to find. I don't enter either of them. I don't control anything. I simply let my telepathy brush against the girlfriend's thoughts and observe what she's experiencing. She's making dinner. I can feel the heat of the stove against her face and the ache of the 8 hours she worked earlier. A moment later, I hear her partner enter the kitchen.

I've spent most of the afternoon sitting on my couch, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about Sara. Eventually, I glance at the clock. 6:51 PM. I smile faintly. My neighbors should be home now. For the past week, I've developed a... routine. They're a young couple who live nearby. I've watched them enough to learn about their schedules, their habits, the little things they say to each other. And sometimes, when I get tired of being alone, I borrow one of those lives for a little while. I close my eyes. Her mind is exactly where I expect it to be. I reach for it. A moment later, everything changes. I'm standing in her living room. I'm looking through her eyes. I can feel the weight of her body, hear her thoughts, and experience the familiar surroundings of her apartment as though I'm there. She doesn't know I'm here. She never does. For the past week, she's simply assumed her occasional blackouts are some kind of medical problem. Apparently, she's been taking medication for them. Then I hear her partner come into the room.

I've noticed my neighbor's routine. Not intentionally at first. It's hard not to notice when someone has a steady stream of girls coming and going from the apartment complex. Over the past few week, I've seen different women arrive, spend some time with him, and eventually leave. Sometimes they look amused. Sometimes they smile. Sometimes they seem completely indifferent. He's a womanizer. That much is obvious. And yet I keep wondering what it must feel like. To have someone look at you and think you're attractive. To have someone choose you. I've never really experienced that. So tonight, curiosity gets the better of me. I sit on my couch, close my eyes, and reach out with my telepathy. His mind is easy to find. I slip into his perspective without taking control of him, seeing exactly what he sees while he remains completely unaware of my presence. He's sitting on his couch, scrolling through Tinder. Profile after profile flashes across his phone. Women he's never met. Women he's considering meeting. I watch with growing curiosity. Then an idea occurs to me. I focus on the profile currently displayed on his screen. The account belongs to a young woman named Redd Dayspring. I focus my powers, and the photograph changes. The image on his screen now shows me. My copper-red hair. My blue eyes. My face. I stare through his eyes at the profile picture, my heart beating a little faster. "This is ridiculous." I whisper from my apartment. But I don't undo it. Instead, I settle deeper into the connection, eagerly watching through his eyes as his thumb begins moving toward the screen, waiting to see whether he'll swipe left or right on Redd Dayspring's profile with my face staring back at him.