(No, not like that.)
Allow me to explain. See, writers can more or less be broken down into two basic types: plotters and pantsers. Plotters, well, they plot it all out ahead of time. Pantsers write by-the-seat-of-their-pants. To be strictly accurate, most writers are a mix of the two, but trend one way or the other. When I was very young I was a pantser- I think most children are- but as I got older I became more and more of a plotter. To the point where I think I sometimes pre-write my way into not being able to actually write, for fear of somehow breaking the world-building I've already spent so many hours on. Which brings us to today, and a story-seed I've had for a while, which I've given the working-name Twinsight. I've done only the barest of plotting on it- more character/concept than actual plot- so it's perfect to use for pants-practice. Behold.
There aren’t that many of us living in the Commune- maybe three hundred, if you don’t count the Guides. It’s a small enough number that I know most of my peers by sight, if not name.
I did not know this boy.
He was tall enough to stand out, and lean enough that it made him seem taller still. He moved through the crowd with ease, slipping deftly from one gap to the next, bumping into no one. He appeared to be sizing people up as he went- not in an aggressive way, but more like with an intense curiosity.
He must be newly-manifested, I realized. Unused to being around so many Savvies- perhaps not even knowing that so many existed in all the world, let alone Madran. Most of us had manifested in childhood or puberty, but late bloomers weren’t unheard-of. He must be one of them, and feeling overwhelmed by it all.
As if he could hear my thoughts, the boy looked in my direction; when his eyes met mine he gave me a wide grin. My insides lurched: something about the dimple at the right side of his mouth transformed his average-good-looks into breath-takingly gorgeous.
I tore my eyes away from the boy and turned towards the voice calling my name. Rosemary, the new assistant to my primary Guide, had a hopeful look on her face.
“Are you having a vision?” She asked. I blinked in confusion.
“Why would you think I was having a vision?”
“Your face- it got… I don’t know. It looked like you were seeing something unexpected.”
Well that was true. I glanced back at where the boy had been. He’d vanished, of course.