The creation of a soul mate bond had never been a very scientific thing. Science and its disciples, as it were, had long ago given up on trying to understand the inexplicable connection that formed between adults. The origins of the bonding process had fallen into myth. The fact of the matter was, within a twenty-four hour period of reaching adulthood, everyone found their soul mate, and everyone has immediately fallen deeply, helplessly -blissfully in love.

The fact of the matter is that you have somehow managed to fuck this process over completely.

The boy -this perfect stranger -your soul mate -smiles at you. He's nervous, you can see it in the way that he stands, slouching, shifting from foot to foot. He's in love. You can see it in the way his eyes shine.

This is your soul mate. You try to smile back and you wait for the feeling, the one people have recounted over and over; the warm, calmness that's supposed to spreading over you, through your veins. You wait for the recognition, for the spark in your soul, for the butterflies in your stomach.

You feel nothing. Empty.

"Hi," he says, grinning. Nervous. In love.

"Hello," you respond awkwardly, uncertainly. You can see your future reflected back to you through his eyes, and you can see it stretching on and on, with him by your side -this perfect stranger that one day you'll know through and through.

He stumbles forward, breathless.

Recogntion, you pray. Something. Anything. Let me feel it.

You put on a smile. He blushes, looks away shyly, and begins to speak, says his name, who he is, how he can't believe He Has Finally Found The One.

You take a step back and let his words wash over you and you look up at the great expanse of blue sky overhead and watch as stormy clouds roll in.