My date with Colin went well. I did not register a single thing from the movie we watched, on account of I was experimenting with receiving and listening to the colossal amount of thoughts around me. I built my opinion of the movie thanks to what the other moviegoers thought. The crowded streets and restaurant were also ripe with minds to explore, but I had to focus on speaking with my date.

My coworker and I inevitably gravitated toward discussing hospital or paramedicine adjacent subjects. There has been an increase in violence against transgender or non gender-conforming citizens of Gotham lately, which has yet to have been addressed by anyone in a position of authority. The victims are often found injured inside Sixes or areas near the neighborhood, and that is all we know. I am hoping my new gifts will help me discover more.

According to one of Colin's patients, her assailant was a member of Bane's gang. She was certain of this, apparently having seen the man inject Venom - Bane's trademark super-steroid - into his forearm before going berserk and assaulting her. She had survived by stabbing him in the throat with one of her seven-inch heels. Of course, the police officers that questioned Colin and his patient were not overly convinced by her testimony.

The young man and I eventually realized our inadvertent obsession for our work and changed topics. Neither of us shared profoundly emotional or personal information, but we sustained our usual banter with ease.

I enjoyed our late afternoon together, and Colin asked me if I would like to go on a second date. We were in my apartment building's parking lot, so I knew Joseph was watching every second of our exchange, smoking next to his own car only fifty feet from us. And that, even if his cigarette burned entirely, he would stay put. Therefore, I ignored my well-meaning - but nosy - neighbor and agreed to Colin's invitation.

Now, I sit on my couch, exercising my mind. I am starting to not only gather my thoughts within the borders of my psyche, but also to separate them into categories to neatly store them, until they naturally disappear from my immediate consciousness and become memories.

My stomach rumbles softly, reminding me of my hunger. I refuse to enjoy a snack or prepare even the smallest dinner. My meal tonight will be exclusively comprised of whatever Cedric and his husband have planned.

Eating is the best way to avoid speaking. In case I panic because of my telepathy, I can always shove crackers or egg rolls into my mouth and pretend to choke... Which, now that I think it over, could cause me to truly choke, so I might need other evasion tactics.

~

The evening sky is pitch black and sullied by clusters of dark gray clouds, ominous and prepared to discharge hundreds of thousands of humongous icy pellets. The weather broadcast announced the first snowfall of the season around midnight. In Gotham City, the "first snow" is always hail, somehow hardened by the habitual wafts of pollution. The only advantage this year is that my car cannot look much worse than it currently does, hailed on or not.

Cedric opens his front door, greeting me with his candid smile.

"Hello, Tanza! Come on in."

A wave of music reaches my ears, it sounds like a house remix of The Nutcracker Ballet.

Amused and glad to see him, I comment, "Hey, Cedric. Looks like it's going to hail tonight."

"Yeah, Joseph took Ruth to the covered parking yesterday, thank God. They're doing discounts over there now for new clients, you know. If you buy a new car, just ask us and we'll put in a good word."

Ruth is the name the couple has given their prized collector's automobile.

I have entered the apartment and followed my host as he spoke. He adjusts his glasses, then motions at Joseph who is conversing with a short stout person and an elderly woman sporting a gorgeous turquoise braid.

Their apartment looks completely different, with star-shaped fairy lights hung everywhere, sparkling snowflake decorations on every possible surface and rainbow covers on their lamps to create peculiar colorful lighting. The cozy orangey yellow tint of the ceiling fixtures' lightbulbs is still strong, but the desired effect is accomplished.

Joseph introduces me to the two guests: Georgelle and their mother, Nellie. They are both very kind, and the few thoughts I overhear from them are entertaining, however I quickly leave them with the couple... To go eat.

The flow of thoughts is eclectic as any, but manageable. After all, there are at most two dozen people in here. Standing in front of the small linear kitchen island, I smooth down the sleeves of my navy turtleneck sweater, reviewing my options. I pick up a very enticing tiny bowl of carrot soup, especially enticing because I did not bring my coat to go up a flight of outdoor stairs. Taking a sip, I recognize the taste of fennel. I have to use all the decorum in my body not to pound back the ten spoons' worth of soup inside the ceramic bowl. Drinking it from the assorted miniature spoon, I spot an array of mini-croissants, my next target. There are three unidentified dips to accompany them, but I eat two of them plain. I glance at a large clear bowl, holding typical bright pinkish red fruit punch, reminding me of Colin's affinity for sports drinks of this flavor.

"Hey, Tanza! I see you found the food. I always say 'follow the food'."

Joseph chuckles at his own humor, I join him.

"Hi. Is that fruit punch in the bowl? Without anything else?"

"Yeah, it's clean. A lot of 'em have to drive tonight. But we have some beers in a cooler behind the counter." He winks at me.

"Alright, thanks." I smile, quickly looking around the living space, scanning the guests' cheerful faces.

What am I even doing here? They do not need me to have fun and they surely do not care...

"They're gonna love you. All of them, any of them... I know how you feel, kid. And even if they don't, you'll always be welcome to watch the game with 'Ric and me."

The middle-aged man's earnest words warm my heart.

I exhale silently, half-reassured, "Time to mingle, then?"

"That depends, how hungry are you?"

Laughing deeply in his hoarse voice, he picks up two homemade rice cereal and marshmallow squares from a glittering pale blue tray.

"Thank you, sir," I tell him, smirking and accepting the treat.

As Joseph and Cedric predicted, their friends and close acquaintances alike were pleased to meet me, and I thought they were great as well. It feels odd to know that every person in this apartment does not judge my identity and accepts me for who I am. All of them, strangers... And I have not perceived a single hateful thought fuelled by intolerance.

I move over to the secluded archway that leads to the other rooms, to stand in the alcove between the hallway and the living room. There, I will peacefully consume my third glass of fruit punch, which I have admittedly been diluting with cold tap water, because the taste of it is genuinely frightening and insufferable.

I am startled to find that someone else had the same idea to isolate themselves. I must have been too focused on rummaging through my thoughts and lowering the volume of everyone else's.

A woman, who is seemingly around 30 years old with medium-length auburn hair, stares back at me.

"Sorry! I didn't know anyone was here." I smile at her, paying attention to the current of thoughts in her direction in an attempt to gauge how annoying she finds me.

Surprisingly, I do not hear anything in particular that appears to emanate from her, so I hastily mute the inner voices of the guests until my mind's borders are shut off. I should not risk revealing myself, even if it is unlikely that she is a telepath and I probably just listened wrong. Cheryl advised me to lock up my mind any time I have even the slightest doubt. As a careful person and a paramedic, "better safe than sorry" is one of my mantras, so she did not need to convince me.

"You mean hiding. And don't apologize."

The woman is wearing a pair of wide round glasses with thin rims, and the mix of unassorted multicolored lights reflects on their lenses, forming bizarre shimmering patterns.

"Can I hide with you, then?" I joke.

"Why not?" Her voice is low-pitched and has a slight gravelly quality to it. Still, it is filled with a somewhat restrained air of benevolence.

I walk into the closed off area, noticing that she is holding a plastic cup that is identical to mine, as it contains punch.

"My name's Tanza, by the way. And you are?" I grin at her, as invitingly as I can.

Finally, the woman spins to face me, keeping her arms tightly crossed over her dark magenta silk blouse.

"It's nice to meet you, Tanza. I'm Persephone."