I wouldn't meet his eyes. "Just a tall caramel frappuccino, please." I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was looking at me quizzically, not because of my order, but because of my avoidance to looking at him. He rolled his eyes and punched in my order. I handed him my card and he swiped it, handing it back. I cringed at the wet, oily substance on it. "Can I get a name for the order?" "Ash," I answered. "Do you want a receipt?" "No thank you," I said hurriedly, and walked over to wait for my drink. I sighed and wiped my card on my jeans. It's fine. Whatever. No one else can see it anyway. The man. His name was Jerry. At least, that's what his name tag said. And Jerry had skin made of oil. Eyes like a snake's. Nails made for ripping into flesh. I don't want to be caught at a bar with that guy. Ever since I was younger, I've had this gift. I'm not going to be cliche and call it a curse. It's not. It's made me an excellent judge if character. I know when my friend's new significant other is going to hurt them. I know whether my mom's new friend is toxic or good for her. I know whether or not my new boss has a hot temper. I can see people's character. Their real personality reflected across their body. Like her. That girl over there. Her skin has blotches of paint. Her hair is in shades of color I've never seen before. Her head has levitating blue stones circling it. She's an artsy personality. Strong and tough. She can stand up for herself. And she's outgoing. Talkative. Kind. That person in the corner? Their long hair flickers in and out of sight, masked by a short haircut no one else but me can see. Their arms have spikes portruding from them, cracking their skin. A hazy, golden sheild surounds their entire body. They aren't comfortable in their own skin. They wish they were someone else. And they are very guarded. Don't easily trust. Anyway, that's my skill. My gift. Oh, shoot. Right, ok. Introductions. I always forget those. I'm Ash. It's short for Ashlyn. Ashlyn Hendricks is my full name. "Caramel frappuccino for Ash!" I look up and see a girl with curled tendrils of color covering her skin and giving off a glow, and a pair of florescent devil's horns floating above her head. I approach her and take the cup, thanking her and grabbing a straw. She nodded to me and turned to a guy sitting on the other side of the counter by the coffee machines. They seemed friendly. Probably friends. He had crazy and vastly different tattoos across his skin. A dolphin, a car, a flower. His eyes are a bright forest green. When I walk past him, I feel a soothing heat radiating from him. I stopped to get napkins at the counter and throw away my straw wrapper. I drop my straw into my drink and take a sip. My face crinkles in disgust. Ugh. Paper straws. Assaults to humanity. I don't care if they save turtles or whatever. They're the worst. On my way out, I feel a hand on my shoulder and a full heat on my back. I flinch away and turn around quickly. "Hey!" The person says with a smile. It's the guy that was talking to the barista. The tattoo guy. "Um, sorry, you have a stain on your jeans?" I look down at the stain from my card that's smeared across my thigh and look back up with wide eyes. "Sorry. I know people don't usually chase people around coffee shops to tell them that but I didn't want you to walk around with that and... I am realizing this is a very awkward conversation!" He says, giving me an awkward smile. When he takes in my expression, his face falls. "You can't see it." He looks down and mutters under his breath. "Um, nevermind. Ignore me. I'm insane." He sighs and turns around, shaking his head. I snap out of my daze and realize he's leaving. "Wait!" I exclaim. He turns around with a confused expression. I take a step forward. "You... You can see it?"