When I finally found, and fell in love with, another telepath, our connection became indescribably deep. Forget finishing sentences–we finished each other’s thoughts. Experienced each other’s emotions.
Gained each other’s talents.
I could now cook bibimbap, rebuild diesel engines, and knit mittens for people I loved. She could now discuss the works of German philosophers, tend a vegetable garden, and hack networks. She got my abstract knowledge; I got her clever hands and her, herself. The jackpot.
But I did not get her cancer.
When your lover dies, they say half of you is gone.
You have no idea.
Author’s Note: We’ve all read stories with ominous telepathic characters who “read your thoughts,” but what might an average telepath in love feel?