You're sitting in the local mall with a couple of your friends. They had called you a few hours earlier asking if you had wanted to go shopping with them. You didn't really want to, but decided to go anyways. It's not like you had anything better to do, except maybe watch movies with your cat. But you know she'd forgive you.
You have finished shopping though and now you and your friends are just enjoying the pretzels all of you had bought. You're sitting on the edge of the giant water fountain that's placed in the middle of the mall. Next to you is your very best friend, Nickie. To the other side is Rae, just a friend.
"What do you think that guy does for a living?" asks Nickie, pointing to a sharply clad gentleman who was walking with a brisk pace. It was easy to tell that he was a business man, with his custom tailored suit, shiny Gucci shoes, and Rolex watch.
You ponder this question for a moment, dipping in a piece of your pretzel into your cheese before popping it into your mouth. You chew thoughtfully, wanting to come up with a good story for this guy.
"He's a spy, obviously," you begin, "He's on a mission to stop the bomb that's been planted in the basement of the mall. We haven't been evacuated because they know he's the best and he'll get the job done without alerting anyone to what is happening. That watch he's wearing – it's actually a communicator. He's getting intel about the type of bomb it is as we speak, not that it matters, because he'd get the job done no matter what. When he's done with the bomb, he'll stop at one of the jewelry stores and buy some expensive bracelet for the mistress that is waiting for him, naked, back at some bogus house," you finish with confidence. Nickie is riveted with your story, as she always seems to be. She's always telling you how good of a storyteller you are, but you don't let it go to your head. It's just something fun you like to do.
Rae, on the other hand, is looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "Wow, a spy. How cliché, Kimi. Try something more original next time?" says Rae, bitchy like always. You look back at her and think, this is why she's just a friend…or maybe even a frenemy. You turn from her, used to her snide comments. Besides, you weren't telling the story for Rae's entertainment – it was for Nickie's, and as long as she enjoyed it, you were content.
You glance over at Nickie, seeing that she's scanning the crowd for another person to become the victim of your storytelling. You give a small, amused smile and begin to munch heartily on your pretzels and cheese, taking the time to sip your Coke every once and a while to help get the food down.
You're enjoying the last bit of your pretzel when you feel Nickie lightly elbow you. You look up to see who she's pointing to now. It's a girl with long black and pink hair, her back to you. She's wearing a black and red flannel shirt, rolled at the sleeves and much too long for her. Her pants are tight, skinny black jeans with rips and chains all over them and her shoes are dark red chucks.
Nickie looks at you, excited, "What's her story?!" You're not paying attention however, because the way the girl is standing looks familiar as does the shirt she's wearing. You lean forward and to the side a bit, trying desperately to get a look at her face. Turn, you think, turn around! And by some miracle, she does.
It seems like it's happening in slow motion. Her hair fans out behind her as she turns her head, some of it obstructing her face. She's the only thing in focus, all the other people around just blurs. Her eyes are what give who she is away. You feel your hand crush the cup of Coke, spilling it all over your hand, pant leg, and Rae. This is what brings you back to yourself.
"WHAT THE FUCK, KIMI!?" screeches Rae, jumping up from her sitting position, try to shake the Coke from herself. You ignore her bitching, shaking off the pop from yourself and trying desperately wipe it off your leg. You hear Nickie give an, 'oh shit,' and know that she understands what's happening.
You glance back up and see the girl staring at you with a little bit of horror and a little bit of guilt and just a little bit of everything. You recognized the shirt because it had been yours and you recognized the stance because it had belongs to Kodi.
"That's her," whispers Nickie lowly, not wanting anyone to overhear, "that's your…" She trails off, not quite knowing what to say. Secret ex-girlfriend, you think, nodding your head to Nickie.
You glance around the mall and take in all the people. You tell stories about people's secret lives all the time, none of them being true. But here you are staring your secret life right in her face, something you deny to be true. Why couldn't your secret life something more simple, like a spy?