I’m having dinner in a dark quiet restaurant. My waiter comes over to ask if I’d like dessert. I look up at his face.
I haven't met him before this night, but I already know that he cheated on his wife while she was dying of cancer. I look down at my empty plate and tell him no thanks.
After leaving the restaurant, I head down the street, keeping my gaze away from other people. I try not to look, but it's impossible most of the time. Too tempting.
I glance at the faces of the others who are passing me on the sidewalk, and suddenly I know their secrets.
**"Skipped his dad's funeral to get drunk at a bar"**
**"Stealing money from her clients"**
**"Lost his virginity to a prostitute"**
They're all written clearly on everyone's faces. The deepest darkest secrets they have, in full display on their foreheads. No one else can see them of course.
I don't know why I have this ability, but I would give anything to get rid of it. Imagine knowing the worst thing you could possibly know about someone within seconds of meeting them.
there are some boring secrets (I wanted to hug the old woman whose worst secret was that she had sex once before getting married yet still wore white to her wedding) but there are some
truly fucking horrible secrets.
Forget about dating. I tried a few times, but seeing a woman's baggage immediately on the first date killed the attraction for me.
There was Naomi, whose face told me that she secretly believed that white people are superior to all other races.
Then there was Eve, who apparently was a lesbian repressing her sexuality to appease her strict parents.
My last date was with a woman named Jamie, who had a fetish that was so disturbing and illegal that it still haunts me to this day.
It's a hard fucking way to live, to say the least.
As I walk down the street, I'm getting overwhelmed by all the people around me, their faces advertising their sinister secrets as they walk ignorantly along.
This anxiety I'm feeling happens a lot. I barely go out anymore.
I've been planning to break my lease so I can move to a secluded area, where I can live my life while having minimal contact with other people.
I walk to a quiet side street and request an Uber on my phone. He arrives a minute later and I dive in, relieved to be going home.
“How's your night going?” the driver asks me, turning around in his seat.
My throat tightens up as I see **"killed his last two passengers"** scrawled on his forehead. He turns back around and slams on the gas.