In this world soulmates exist, the only down fall to it is that when your soulmate dies you stop aging. As I make my way home after a long day of running arens I spot a goup of teenage boys. They take one look at me and start to call me out. They are shouting at me to come over and I can't help but notice that they are staring. I keep my eyes straight and pick up the past I refuse to let those brats get to me. The words that they say can be hurtful, I've never really gotten use to the new slang they are using. I am a few blocks away from home when a group of girls complament my looks, I smile and go on with walking has I am ready to be home. A block away I see a girl balling her eyes out and a few others girls comfurting her. I stop and ask what is wrong when one of the girls says a year ago her boyfriend died. Confused I ask her to go on and she does, she says that her phyiscal apperence has not changed at all like the other girls has. Thats when the girl crying yell my soulmate he's dead, I tell her that I am sorry for her loss and continue home. When I make it home I place my things on the counter and go to the bathroom, I can't help buy shed a few tears. Between the boys cat-calling the complinents and the crying female I was overwelmed but this, this is normal. I get cat-called often and I hear the sobs but I have a little secret that no one knows. If the boys had known I wouldn't be cat-called and the girl they wouldn't complain at least not to. If only they new my real age. I am a 65 year old woman who lost her soulmate at the age of 16, it isn't so bad and the one thing I keep telling myself is. Looks don't matter.
© Julia storymaker