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Red Threads

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My name is Stacie Conrad and I was told that I would be meeting you in three years. This might sound crazy, but I think I’ve been drawn to you since I was a child. Even though we haven’t met yet, I see you in all my dreams and every moment I feel at my weakest. I think I miss you, and I don’t even know you. I know I want to though, I know there’s some strand of fate tying us and -

Stacie groaned and stopped writing. Crumbling the piece into a ball, she tossed it into the trash can and settled her head on her desk. The nights were getting harder and the dreams more vivid, each one outlining a different story, a different life. She saw some old faces and some new ones, but for all her life she couldn’t remember them. All except for one face that she saw in her dreams, repeatedly. A quandary that had plagued her current days. Sometimes to get the thoughts and dream made memories out she would start to write a letter to the unknown girl, but she always stopped halfway because she felt stupid.

When Stacie turned eighteen she had a minor accident that left some irreparable head trauma. She couldn’t recognize people, faces turned to mush in her memory. Everyone was a blank slate. Despite this issue, her sex life was hardly influenced. With this freedom of not remembering she took advantage of her circumstances and had something of a healthy sex life. She was happy to forget the face that haunted her dreams every night, leaving tantalizing memories of lives not lived. That is until her friends Jessica and Ashley dragged her to a psychic.

Now, Stacie was never one to believe in the more mystical matters of the universe, but the medium in question had some surprising details and insights that even Stacie couldn’t scoff at. She had gone in as a joke but walked out surprised and slightly anxious. So, as is her habit, Stacie immediately gathered as much reference material as possible pertaining to any supernatural or mystical mumbo jumbo she could find.

Whether the psychic read body language or pupil size, Stacie wanted to know. Beca thought she was nuts.

“So you have a mystical three years soulmate?” Beca exclaimed skeptically.

“Meh,” Stacie murmured as she hunched over her laptop. Dozens of links were open for psychic readings around the world, she had introduced herself and sent the same question to every one of them. She was also in the process of coding a simulation with similar suggested variables and seeing if the prophetic advice was even viable.

Beca was peering over her shoulder with vague curiosity. “You’re nuts, I hope you know that.”

Stacie ignored her friend in exchange for writing out a couple more coding functions. “Do you think you could maybe help, instead of just watching?”
“Do what? I can’t code, I don’t even know what language that is.;” Beca retorted.

“It’s a mixture of c++ and Java along with something I made for myself, I blended my own functions and created software to process it.”

Beca blinked and shook her head at the taller brunette’s antics. “Absolute weirdo.”

“Why are you putting so much effort into this anyway? You’re not made of money, last I checked, and psychic’s charge;” Beca pointed out.

Stacie groaned and hammered the backspace button furiously, her eyes didn’t leave the screen as she began her explanation. “The priestess lady, or whatever, had details I didn’t share. Not even online. She couldn’t have known where I wanted to go to grad school, what I did on my last date, none of it.”

“So, now you’re doing an experiment to see if one person was lying to you? By possibly paying a dozen other people to lie to you?” Beca reiterated.

“A dozen isn’t a good sample size, Beca;” Stacie stated.

“How many psychics did you hire Stacie;” Beca gawped.

“If the sample size isn’t at least one hundred it’s not a viable study,” Stacie replied.

“Stacie!” Beca shouted.

Stacie stopped typing and turned around to consider her friend. “I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense to you but I just have to know okay?”

“Why no one else knows, why do you have to?” Beca raised a fair question, one that Stacie had been asking herself. Her tiny friend was right, no one else knows what fate has in store for them. Why does she feel the need to?

“I guess, I’m scared,” Stacie admitted. “I’ve never been in a relationship and my dating life has been absolutely terrible, I mean, my sex life is phenomenal don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know how to do this. If I have one person, only one. As statistically improbable as it is, I just need to know how real that is because it’s a variable I can prepare for. I see this girl in my dreams Becs and I’m always so happy. I just, I need to know so I don’t fuck it up.”

Beca gently pried the laptop from Stacie’s clutches and settled in the spot beside the taller girl. They sat in silence for a moment as Beca pondered what to tell her friend, she wasn’t particularly mystical like Lily, or free-spirited as Fat Amy, but she knew Stacie. She knew what kind of person Stacie was, she had seen the girl through all her disastrous crushes and Beca had to agree. Stacie was right, it always seemed off. Every almost relationship the taller girl had gotten into had been plagued by self-destructive tendencies or just oddly impractical circumstances. If there was a plan or sense of fate, then it definitely had pulled in Stacie’s romantic life. Or lack thereof.

“How much money do you need?” Beca sighed.

“Wait, what?” Stacie stammered.

“How much money do you need, I’m trying to be a supportive friend. Take it now before I change my mind, I -” Beca didn’t get to finish her sentence because Stacie had sprung forward to wrap the ting girl in her arms.

“Thank you so much, I applied for some grants as well! So that should help cover it.”

“You what? Stacie, your study isn’t linked to any universities, how -”

“Can you help send these emails, it’s the same message over and over. We can’t contaminate the evidence. I also want to check the soulmate sketch market since I have a clear image of what she’s supposed to look like.”

“Stacie, you don’t remember faces;” Beca reminded her friend.

“Oh, I remember hers,” Stacie informed her, something that was brand new information to the DJ.

“You remember her face?” Beca exclaimed.

“Yup, I’ve seen it since I was fifteen so I would hope so.”

“Stacie, you confused a moving man for your mom;” Beca recounted.

“I know her face, trust me;” Stacie said resolutely. The conviction in the taller girl’s blue/green eyes was enough to convince Beca.

“I’ll grab my laptop, you can send me an email with the message you need me to send.”

Stacie squealed with delight as her friend pulled out a laptop and set to work. Begin operation Fact or Fiction.