The Cut

McKenna Swartzwelder

She had always heard the rumors. She had seen it with her best friend and her boyfriend. One of them fell and twisted their ankle, the other got a twisted ankle. One got a paper cut the other got a paper cut. That's how it worked right? One person got hurt, so did the other. That' how true loved worked. You could tell when your match got hurt. They felt your pain, you felt theirs. It's freaking poetic isn't it? You have a connection before you've even met. It was a crappy connection, but all the same it was something you had in common.
Her match must have been something. Seriously. He was either a stunt devil or a klutz. Her friends felt bad for her. She would be sitting in class working on a writing assignment and bam. You have bruises on your face and a shoulder popped out of place. Harper was only 11 when these things started happening. This was much earlier than anyone else that she had talked to. The average age for the connection to start was 14.
This whole thing was stupid. Throughout the years, Harper had had broken bones, cuts, sprains, and bruises. She hated it. Unless she met her match one day, it wouldn't go away. That was the sad thing. One person in the whole world. Psh ok. It is like you were born with a pre-determined scavenger hunt. What. A. Joke.
Harper hadn't had any pain for a few days, so she decided to go out. This whole match thing was starting to get to her. She hated feeling pressured into finding someone who will be her match. She wanted to chose who she was with. It seemed as though she didn't really have a choice. After saying goodbye to her parents, Harper walked out the door. It was a cool spring day. It was perfect. Sunny with clouds in the sky. Her favorite.
Harper's town had a really nice rustic feel to it. Lots of little mom and pop stores and cafes. She decided to take a stop at one of her favorite cafes. This one had a killer latte and nice patio seating. Perfect for this kind of weather. She sat down and ordered her usual, her long black hair blowing in the spring air. When she got her latte, she went to take a sip. Her hands must've been sweatier than she thought because she dropped the hot liquid all over her hand. And it hurt. A lot. She winced and held her hand under the table. She looked around only to notice something funny.
The boy across from her was holding his right hand as if something had happened to it. She took notice to her own injuries. Right hand. It couldn't be. She took a closer look at the boy. He couldn't have been more than 18. He had a skateboard sitting nest to him at the table. He looked tall. He had blonde hair that was just long enough to cover his ears. His eyes were a mocha brown color.
No. This was not possible. That's right. She was just over reacting. Nothing to worry about. She continued to look at the boy. He had a cut across his left cheek bone that was almost healed. Harper got cut there last week in the middle of class. She couldn't believe what she was seeing! She had to make sure it was true. She did something she thought she would never have to do.
She picked up a piece of her broken coffee cup. She very carefully slid it across the palm of her right hand. God, the things she did for the truth. She winced as she pulled the glass away from her palm. She looked over at the boy. He looked in pain and was holding a napkin to his right hand.
This was actually happening. She had to talk to him. She wasn't the kind of person to hesitate. She got up and walked over to his table. He looked up at her in a manner that suggested that he did not want to be talked to. "Can I help you?" he asked. Harper didn't respond. She held out her hands. One with the burn, one with the cut. She could see the realization in his eyes. He got up from the table and hugged her. A complete stranger. When he pulled away she could see he was happy. And that's all she could have asked for.
Thank you for reading