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?
This is one of the many reasons for the existence of speculative fiction: the ability to tell a far more emotional tale on a subject than could be obtained through a real-world setting. Good exploration.
KJ, your micro-story of telepathic union delivers profound emotion lean and lingers in the reader’s mind. I’m impressed.
Paul