Note : This just stormed into my mind and forced me to write it down. The way the tale is told is rather unpolished, raw and hurried but come to think about it - I wouldn't have it any other way. It suits the message. Enjoy.

Soulmates

The feeling churned up in her chest until she felt like hitting something. She carelessly threw her things in her bag and marched off glaring at anyone who dared to stand in her way. The world seemed such an unfair place and she wanted to scream against the injustice that ruled everywhere. Instead she furiously slammed the door in her wake.

He stood in front of the door and refused exit to anyone. The debates had turned from a friendly banter to an all out verbal war and he didn't want to see his friends divided because of misunderstanding and hot tempers. He made them sit down, think and only then talk it all out because sometimes it was better sooner rather than later.

When she was angry he was the calm voice of reason.

He couldn't refuse his friend's birthday party but neither could he join the festivities. He sat on a couch at a remote corner of the room so that he could have some privacy and wouldn't ruin everybody's joyful mood with the sour expression on his face. He took a sip from his glass and watched his friends go wild to the music. The merry atmosphere failed to carry him away.

The people were stiff and unsure of themselves. Everybody assembled in small groups and chatted about the weather so that there wouldn't be a complete silence. She shook her head in disbelief before clapping her hands and calling attention to herself. She wasn't going to let this continue. They had come to have fun and she would make sure that they had their fun.

When he was sad she was the soul of the company.

She sniffed, coughed and blew her nose in a countless tissue. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red and puffy and when she breathed she sounded like an unkempt, classic car. Her parents were at work and she was hungry. She felt too ill to step out of her room so she tossed in her bed and complained about how much she hated being sick.

He walked home with a slight spring in his step. He scoured the internet until he found the perfect recipe for such an event. He donned his mother's apron and proceeded to follow step by step the instructions which he had printed out. He worked tirelessly for a couple of hours, failing miserably most of the time, until he finally succeeded in cooking his first homemade cake.

When she was ill he was the Chef.

Everybody has their demons and he wasn't an exception. No matter who you are it hurts to be rejected and belittled for something you have put your heart into. He wasn't going to cry but neither did he put up a hard front. He was hurt and he didn't hide it. Part of being a human meant that once in a while one has to take a beating. He went home late that night.

She didn't think about it – she just reacted. Her hand palmed into a fist and she put all she had into that one punch. The guy walked home slightly bruised and she spent the evening with her hand in a towel full of ice. From there on she learned that one should never aim the hit at the jaw, she considered that a lesson well learned and a week later signed up for boxing classes.

When he was vulnerable she was his Wall of China.

It was nothing more than a joke on the 1st of April. It was possible that the harm wasn't intended but it was done nonetheless. Her knees and palms were bleeding and her jeans were torn. She trembled and resisted the urge to scratch her hands to get the small crumbs of asphalt out of her wounds. The children had scattered when she fell and now she was alone. She fished her phone out of her pocket and made a call. She closed her eyes; the sight of blood made her sick, and then she waited.

He pushed the other boy against a wall and lifted him about an inch from the floor by his collar. His expression was calm but his eyes portrayed the rage he felt. He let the situation sink in before whispering a threat to the boy and dropping him back on the floor.

When she was down he was a raging torrent.

He scratched the back of his head and sighed. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't understand it. He had tried to look at it in every possible angle short of reading the paragraph backwards but it was of no use. He spent more than an hour staring blankly at the page before slamming the book close. When he woke the next morning – he knew the answer.

She pulled multiple books from the shelves and dropped them on a table with a small smile on her face. She didn't know the answer either but she figured it made the whole situation seem better when there were two of them. Shared confusion should make for less confusion. She stayed until the task was completed. She was home by the time sun rose but considered the time well spent.

When he was confused she was the dictionary.

It was nothing more than a car trying to catch the light. He still breathed when he hit the ground. By the time ambulance arrived he had stopped breathing but his heart still had a beat. He still hung on to something. His body failed him a block before the hospital. He became nothing more than a statistical number in a chart about yearly road toll.

That night she had a carving for tragedies. She started to cry half way through the movie and couldn't seem to stop. She cried for hours before falling asleep. The next day she was exhausted and empty. Nothing seemed to cheer her up. She spent the day brooding around her house confused about herself. Next day was Monday and she had to go to work. She got up and went on with her life.

They lived on two different sides of the globe. They had never met and now never would.