"I can see you when I touch you." I said, when I was seven years old, to my Mum.
"Pfft. What does that mean? I see you too when I touch you." She smiled at me.
"No, I can see what you have done, yesterday or some other times."
"What are you seeing?"
"What you did. Cooking, working, I see the pictures."
"That is just your imagination working."
But I knew it wasn't. I didn't like how it would happen so often, just by a touch. Steve, my little follower, albeit being older than me, was my biggest believer.
"You are sooo cool." He said when we played in my room.
"I just don't like that it happens at random." I said. At school, it was just annoying.
"Then think of a word, like with a magic trick."
"You mean a catalyst?" A teacher mentioned that in school.