When he finally settled at the table with his half-tato in one hand, coffee in the other, and Boston Bugle folded neatly under his arm, she watched his eyes.
She was honestly just excited to hear that he’d managed to establish a new argument, though she wasn’t convinced that the Sugar Bombs factory in Beijing was a direct link to Childhood Communism as much as it was just outright standard capitalism. “ Did you know there’s a Sugar Bombs factory in Beijing?” He’d mentioned, several months ago for the first time. She waited patiently for him to start his bi-weekly diatribe against the SugarTooth Corporation and their devious aims against the children of the Commonwealth. She watched him turn his nose up at the box of Sugar Bombs sat on the countertop, favoring instead a cup of coffee and half a tato. It might not be bad, or it might be terrible. She had seen it once or twice in Nate’s eyes over the breakfast table- a tint of green in his brown eyes that wasn’t there the day before, almost like a warning. A vague direction as to how closely they’ll come to seeing their entire life flash before their eyes. She couldn’t sense this clearly in other people, though she did have a sense of it.
It was not like a superpower, per se, just a sixth sense. When she woke up in the morning, she knew the exact percentage of how likely she was to die that day, down to the decimal.
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