As Abby and I entered our two bedroom apartment, I got a glimpse of the familiar device on the countertop. Slowly I inched closer. I feel guilty as I picked it up, carefully, afraid that it might shock me. Hundreds of notifications popped up on its tiny face. I started opening it up and read it one after the other.
'Sam, where are you? Why can't I hear you guys?'
'Answer me. Now!?'
'Samantha Jones, you better not let me get down there!'
'Samantha Bridget Jones, if you don't pick up, there's going to be major consequences!'
'That's it, little lady. I'm getting on the first plane right now....'
I quickly typed a response: 'Abby and I went to a shopping complex, and I completely forgot to take the damn device. We're fine, there's no need to get on the plane, Dad.' I assured him. "Don't worry me so much. If something were to happen to you I would surely get a heart attack." My Dad's voice came over the annoying thingamajig. I rubbed my eyes, suddenly glad that we've ate something at a cosy little restaurant before we came back to our apartment. "I'm going to get ready for bed, Dad. It's getting late and we need to get up early for work," I told my father as I put the device back down on to the countertop in the kitchen. He greeted me and I mumbled a soft greeting back at him.
Our apartment has only one bathroom, but it is rather spacious. Consistent of both, a old four-legged bathtub and a shower. A black tiled toilet and sink parades against the far wall. The theme is black and purple pink. While I were taking a long relaxing shower, Abby were soaking up in a deep bubble bath. "Want to talk about it?" Abby asked me out of the blue. I'm not even sure to what she's referring too. As if she could feel my uncertainty she continued: "After you've bumped into that stranger, you've been acting odd." I rinsed my hair as I answered, "What do you want me to say?" I rarely understand it myself. I can see his eyes, his body, his smile and his nowhere near me. I have a theory, but I'm not sure if I believe in that kind of stuff. The soulmate theory. I've heard stories from my deceased mother, how she instantly knew that my Dad were her soulmate. My Grandparents also shared similar stories. It's like nothing you've ever felt before. I've lost all logical hope about that theory after my mother passed away. If she and Dad were soulmates then why have he remarried that brown eyed doe? Who still seems to be green. I am more mature than her. "I can't get him out of my mind," I stated. Abby must have thought that I have slipped and fallen into the shower.
I exhaled, my breathing shakes uncontrollably. I lay with my body against the steamed up tiles of the shower and closed the taps. After a moment, convincing myself that I am okay. I opened the glass door and climbed out of the shower. Abby's concerned expression hits me like a wrecking ball. I fall down on the floor, today's heap of clothes cushions me. I put my head on my knees and wrapped my arms around them. Why am I feeling this way? I don't even know him.