"looks like its going to rain later, I'd better get home", "Ugh, what did they put in this coffee, they made it wrong", "Jesus christ that girl's ass is fucking amazing, what I wouldn't love to -" This is average for me. Hello, my names James, human telepath, pleased to make your acquaintance. Im your average Joe, I like video games, I grew up in northern California suburbia, currently going to school to be a pilot. Only exceptional thing about me? I can read your fucking mind. Pretty cool, right? Not really. Most of what I get is just a complete flood of information. When I'm not paying attention it just fades into the background, like the collective voices of a crowd. But when Im alone with someone, or focus on one particular person, I can get some pretty coherent information. Interestingly enough, people dont think in words. You THINK you do. Well, sometimes they do, but they're so jumbled and fast you'd have to be pretty simple minded for me to string together a coherent sentence out of them. Mostly though, people think in concepts that they attach to words. When I read someones mind I get flashes of memories and feelings. So, in other words, if you're thinking about how happy you are and how you would just absolutely love to go get some ice cream or whatever else people get when they're happy, then if i read your mind, I'll get a warm flash of happiness and an image of YOUR memories of ice cream in my mind. On the other hand, if you're ridiculously angry, I'll get images of red hot fire and a lot of your more unpleasant memories. If you're horny (as most people are) i tend to get flashes of pleasure and whatever porn you watch. So, to answer the most important question you have, yes, I know EXACTLY what kind of sick fucked up things you do on the internet, you sick bastard. But the good part is that it teaches you not to judge. You'd be surprised by how common some things are. Like take this one gentleman in line in front of me. He's wearing a three-piece suit, holding a blackberry and texting his wife. Or at least I think its his wife, all I know is that this is whoever he likes to dress up in spandex with and call Mommy. Sure hope its his wife. But I'm already bored with him. Guy making the coffee? Anxious as hell. From what I can tell he thinks his girlfriend is cheating on him and he keeps fucking up the orders. Oh, and he hates his, "Bitch cunt nazi boss". Dude's got some issues. Girl behind me? She doesn't even like starbucks. She's only here because her friend loves white mochas and dragged her in here. Her friend's pretty simple. Likes dogs. A lot. Wanna know who's got evil thoughts? Kids. Sometimes they're adorable, all love and unicorns and rainbows and all that other shit you see on PBS kids, but sometimes its fucking vile. This one kid who just left kept thinking about stabbing his mom because she wouldn't buy him a hot chocolate. But I can't keep this up all day. Sometimes its nice to tune in just to remind myself how fucked the human psyche is as a whole, but it does take effort, so I let everything just fade back into the background. Besides, Im almost to the front of the line. I walk up and there's a pretty blond girl taking all the orders. She looks about my age, around 19 or 20. She's very stereotypically pretty, foxy body, sharp features, blonde hair and holy fucking shit

Out of nowhere there's this piercing sound in my ears. I plant my hand on the counter and drop my head. No, its not in my ears. Its in my fucking head. The low murmur has suddenly become a grating sound like someones dragging a rusty fucking spoon across my occipital lobe. I grit my teeth and look around and its obvious that its only me that can hear whatever the fuck this is. The cashier looks at me, concern in her eyes. "Hey are you okay?" she asks. "Y-yeah," I say, fumbling my wallet out of my pocket. Where is that coming from? It hasn't just replaced the murmur, its so loud that its drowning out every single other thought in this building. I can't hear anybody even if I focus. "C-could I just get a t-tall l-latte? No f-foam?" The clerk can obviously tell I'm still in pain. "Maybe you should sit down," she says. "No, I'm o-" Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. No way. Its her. The cute clerk girl. How the fuck could it be her? What is that? I stop dead and stare her in the eyes. Someone in line behind me shouts, "Hey! Hurry it up!" I turn around and fix him with the most intense stare I can muster, I focus entirely on him and read every single thought I possibly can. Something I've noticed is that when I read people's thoughts I take something from them. If I spend too long reading one person's mind they start to pass out. And right now I read as much as I can from this man, and he immediately turns green and steps back. I turn back around and fix my eyes on the clerk. She looks entirely innocent. I can't even break through the shrill scream of her thoughts, so I focus everything I have on her. Must look pretty weird, me just staring intensely at this girl while the man behind me gets sick and throws up into one of the water bottle baskets they always have here. I must stare at this girl for ten whole seconds before I finally break through the din. And now I immediately wish I hadn't. She wants to kill everybody. She wants to tear everybody in this room apart, limb from limb, dissect them, eat their flesh, fuck their corpses, and then set the whole place on fire. She wants to do it to me the most. I look delicious to her. I get flashes of cats, so many cats, on fire, bleeding on the ground, in a fucking microwave jesus christ. Dogs, birds, a pet turtle she had when she was seven, any animal that got anywhere near her she skinned, tortured and killed. She tried to set her brother on fire, got sent to a medical facility, spent four years there, got out, and she still kills anything she can get her hands on. She wants to cover herself in my blood and wear my skin and its too fucking much. Taking this much information should be making her dizzy, but she just stares intently at me, this look of mock but convincing concern in her eyes. She's good. She's learned to hide. She knows how to look exactly like everybody else but the moment she gets the chance someone here is going to end up like those cats. Its too much for me. My legs begin to shake and my knees give way and i'm on the floor staring up at the ceiling. Im not unconscious but I can't get away from her thoughts. Someone's pulled out their phone and is calling 9-1-1. "Run," I choke. The ambulance arrives and im placed on a stretcher, those horrible thoughts still latching onto my brain like parasites, eating up any sanity I have and pulling me into her dark playground. The things I can see her just thinking about doing to me are enough to drive me insane. Im wheeled out of the starbucks, and I look back and I see her standing at the edge of the counter. Everybody's looking at me know. Except me. I'm looking at her. And she's smiling.