In a universe where everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to when they’ll meet their soulmate, send me 00:00:00 for my muses reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours.
When the last minute began ticking down on her wrist, Teresa glanced up, eyes darting back and forth frantically. She hadn’t known where to go, where she wanted her big soulmate meeting to be, so she’d just ended up in Central Station staring at the trains and wondering which one would lead her to the most romantic place, where the perfect, ideal, beautiful matchmaking would occur. But she hadn’t been able to decide in time and now here she was, fidgeting and looking lost in th center of the platform. Her curls were gelled into neat ringlets she couldn’t stop tugging at, her palms greasy with a mixture of mousse and sweat. She felt a flush rise up all the way to the tips of her ears, and she resisted the urge to bury her face in her sticky hands, keeping her gaze wide and searching.
Someone bumped into her hard from behind, and Teresa cursed loudly as she was caught off guard, stumbling towards the platform edge. Reaching back wildly, her fingers wrapped around something soft and warm and she yanked on it, realizing too late that it wasn’t going to hold her weight. Teresa tumbled to the ground, just managing to turn herself around so that she landed on her back and the stranger landed right on top of her, half-choking from the pressure she’d put on his scarf.
"Hey, pendejo!" the brunette exclaimed, giving the scarf a reprimanding tug before shoving at the man’s shoulders, squirming out from under him. "Watch where you’re falling, huh?! Some of us got shit to do b’sides fallin’ in front of a train, like—" She froze, glancing down at her wrist and then back at the man before her.