It wasn’t a long date but it was a memorable one. I gauged the timeframe perfectly, with everything ending on a positive note. But as I sit and reflect on the evening, a steady uneasiness builds, founded on no discernable cause, but none the less, a feeling not easily dismissed.
My mother had a sixth sense that proved over time to be rather accurate in its predictions. She could pick out a looser with very little exposure. I remember in particular the young man I dragged home from a hockey game one evening when I was in high school. Although I must admit he was a bit peculiar, I was daft and wouldn’t admit my own concern, just on principle. He was kicked out of school the next week and I never laid eyes on him again – satisfying us both.
“I really don’t want a sixth sense,” I think to myself. “I would rather use logic and reasoning to figure things out.”
Grabbing the remote control, I drop into the wing back chair. “There must be something I can watch to help clear my head. Great! America’s Most Wanted.”
And whose face is plastered all over the screen? Karl’s! My date! As I listen to the list of charges outlining a lengthy bout with crime, I thank God, and mom, for my sixth sense and wish everyone was so gifted.
Written in response to the "K" prompt on ABC Wednesdays.