Find Me Alastar

“Says the woman who is thinking of marrying someone she doesn’t know.” She tuts. “Here.” She puts

her phone on the table for us to read.

Ten signs that you are Psychic:

Spider web sensation.

Corner of Eye vision.

Dreams.

Erratic Temperatures.

Sensing Emotions.

Random thoughts.

Tricks of Light.

Heightened smell.

Who said that?

Telepathy from loved ones.

Being psychic is not a scary matter and you shouldn’t feel fearful of your abilities. Treasure

these tools and skills as unique gifts and try to learn more about each ability so you can use these to

their full potential.

Many psychics are extremely valuable to those who have not yet discovered their own psychic

abilities. People turn to psychic individuals for a variety of reasons, whether it is for guidance and

support, or revealing mysteries and solving crimes. Embrace your psychic qualities as one of

nature’s most powerful gifts and use it to help others in a positive manner.

She starts to read them out. “Spider web sensation.” She looks up at me. “Do you feel spider webs on

your face?”

I frown. “No.” I continue eating.

She continues to read through the list. “Do you see things from the corner of your eye,” she asks.

I roll my eyes. “No.”

“Dreams. We all dream,” she mutters to herself with a shake of her head.

“Erratic temperatures.” She looks up. “Do you feel erratic temperatures?”

“No,” I reply as I sip my wine.

“Sensing emotions?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I am sensing you are horny as hell, if that’s anything?”

“Booya. You got that right,” she mutters as she raises her eyebrows. “Random thoughts?”

“Of course,” I mutter.

“Me, too.” She smirks. “Tricks of light?”

I frown. “Shit, I do get that flashing light sensation thing,” I whisper.

“Oh shit, you do, too,” she replies in thought. “Heightened smell?”

“Nope.”

“Who said that?” she asks.

“Nope. I don’t hear voices.”

“Telepathy from dead people?”

I frown. “No.”NôvelDrama.Org content.

She puts the phone down. “Hmm. I don’t think having one from the checklists means anything.”

I shrug. “I guess.”

She sits back and smiles broadly. “You are not psychic. Stop worrying. It was just a coincidence.”

I watch her face. “Do you really think so?” I ask hopefully.

“Yes.” She smirks. “You’re not weird enough to be psychic.”

I shrug. “Hope so. It’s not really a part of my life plan, you know.”

Brielle laughs out loud. “I think we left our life plans in Australia. Wanking my boss with my foot

wasn’t on my agenda, either.”

I shake my head and begin to chuckle at the disturbing chain of events. “This is true.”

I type the last of my email before lunch and my thoughts go to Brielle. I’m not being completely honest

with her and it’s really bugging me. Last night at dinner I told her I have moved in with Alastar and that he

has asked me to marry him. She was shocked and appalled but did admit that she has never seen me so

happy. What I didn’t tell her is that the wedding is booked for three days’ time, and that, this afternoon,

after work, I am going to buy myself something to wear to it. The lift opens and I see the two detectives

from the other day walk out and go to Mark’s office. Oh. I wonder what’s going on now. I sit up in my

chair and crane my neck to see what they are doing. Mark opens the door to his office and invites them in

then the door closes. I quickly look around and get out my phone and type into Google.

What to wear for a casual wedding?

Pictures come up with all sorts of pretty little dresses. Long straight ones, frilly ones, different colors.

What color do I want to wear?

White. I want to wear white.

I smile broadly as I imagine Twinkle’s face when he sees me wearing it.

I scroll through the pictures and spot the short, cute styles. I think I want to wear a white short dress

with long sleeves-a quirky, trendy, yet sexy little number. Yes. I smile to myself as my eyes flicker out

the window. God knows Alastar will look trendy and gorgeous.

I will just leave my hair down and I will need to get shoes, too. What kind of shoes do I want to

wear? Hmm, I search for shoes, too, and start to flick through the images of them all. My phone rings and I

pick up. It’s Mark.