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want him to say something. “The animals appreciate it.” I blush realizing how stupid I sound.
    He holds up his fingers. “I paid for two.”
    I blush. I look beyond him. “He paid for two,” I confirm to the waiting line behind him and we lean in toward each other.

Three

    There has to be a relationship between pheromones and kissing. Time has passed and my mood from this morning is drastically different from what it is now.
    I admit, I didn’t want to work in the kissing booth, but it’s been fun. I’ve mainly only had a peck here and a hand shake there. More importantly everyone wants to give money for the animals. Even the girlfriends of the guys kissing me don’t seem to don’t mind since it’s all going to a good cause.
    Don’t misunderstand me, I do get some nasty stares.
    “It’s for a good cause,” I holler at the lady who tips her nose up at my booth.
    “Ah, the good ole’ kissing booth.” The suave neatly coiffed blonde-haired hunk, is walking next to the booth with his mutt and another guy whose baseball cap is pulled down over his eyes.
    I walk around the booth, and since it’s five minutes until quitting time and no one’s in line, I figure it’s time to shut down the lip business. “Hey, buddy.” I point to the fluffy dog. “What’s his name?”
    I look back and forth at the two, and notice the one with the cap doesn’t look my way.
    “Tramp.” The blonde guy bends down next to me as we stroke his dog. “Or at least that’s what his papers say.” He pulls the adoption papers out of his pocket.
    “Oh good.” I’m a little uncomfortable being close to this guy. I don’t know what the vibe is, but I know it’s not good. He stares at me in a creepy way. I stand up and take a step back, every break-up I’ve done racing through my mind. Do I recognize his guy? Is that what the vibe is? Is he a disgruntled dumpee? Has he tracked me down?
    “How’s business?” He refers to the booth behind me.
    I take a couple steps back to put some distance between us. “It was fine.”
    The light radiating between the two men is not good. I’ve only sensed this type of aura once before. No, no please. I steady myself against the booth and close my eyes.
    When I was a teenager, a little boy went missing. I dreamed of him in a scary basement. When I woke, Aunt Matilda wrote down all the details and took it to the police. Afterward the police found him in that same basement. From then on the police called upon Aunt Matilda to help them with crimes their department had problems solving. Only, I was the one helping them, they just didn’t know it.
    When they put the boy’s kidnapper in a line up, Aunt Matilda had to go in and tell them if he was in the vision—totally unusable in a court of law, but helpful anyway. Even though the police objected, she took me. She didn’t want them to know I was the one who had the vision. But she was determined that all the bad guys got put behind bars since the love of her life turned out to be a thief who got away with it. She was a big believer in paying it forward even if it meant bringing me to the police station. I’ll never forget the moment I laid eyes on that man. His aura popped up – magenta .
    “Was?” The perfect blonde specimen looks at his watch, and then peers at me. “You have a few minutes left.” He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a five. I blink, hoping the auras will go back to their normal colors. But when I open my eyes, they’re still the same. These guys’ auras aren’t pure magenta, but a combination of yellow and violet. I’m having a hard time reading them, but I know they’re not good.
    I gather my belongings. “I’m sorry. The booth is closed.” I turn around relieved to see Erin walking towards me. I point at her. “See. She’s coming to collect the money.”
    He steps back and hands me the money. “Keep it. It’s for charity.”
    “Uh, hi.” Erin’s eyes dart nervously between me and the guy.