You might be looking at the name of this entry and assuming that Hermes returned to shoot me or something of that nature. No, no. Not at all. It's only mildly worse. 

You see, I forgot that I was invisible. Kind of hard to forget, you say? Tell that to a Jinx who is going to take a meal with another human. For the first time in four years. Yes, I forgot that Dianne was about to pay for a meal with an invisible entity sitting across from her. Because I have no money, obviously. 

Then you know what else I realized? She works a night-shift at the restaurant. She closed the place for tonight. That concerns me for a variety of reasons. 

1) She knows I'm invisible, somehow, and doesn't want anyone else to know, for some reason. (This is certain.)

2) It could be an ambush, and she's working with Hermes and Dr. Facilier. 

3) And worst, it could be that she's trying to be romantic. Why is that the worst? I don't swing that way. Say what you want, I don't care. So I'm asexual. 

Go away if you can't deal with a "protagonist" who refuses to engage in a romantic relationship. If you don't like it, or me...well, that's too bad. I'm not writing my love live, I'm writing a guide of how not to be me. 

How not to be Jinxed. 

Don't make that face; it's important. Now, going on, I didn't bother with looking nice, I just pulled on my leather jacket, and looked in the mirror. I saw myself, but any normal thing wouldn't have. Maybe that makes Cody, Dianne, and Hermes strange? Probably. 

Yes, now I will describe myself as bluntly as possible. Don't even think about asking me to date you. (Hint: That was sarcasm.) I have shock-white hair, I keep it swept to the right side of my face, and it's long to my chin. Disheveled, most of the time, so I combed my fingers through it in vain. My eyes are of a frosty blue, more white around the pupils, and darker blue at the edges of my irises. My cheekbones are high, my nose sharp, my brows arched, and my jaw defined. My left brow has a streak of blond running vertical at its arch. My build is lean, and taller than most humans, my limbs chorded with ropy muscles. I'm not Hulk, no (don't wish I was, either). I wore a black leather jacket over a black shirt reading, "Go Save the Punk," and a pair of ripped jeans. Black is my preferred colour in clothes, lest you didn't realize it. Also, "Punk," in the sense of the music taste. But if you wish, call me a hoodlum or a criminal. Whatever pleases you. 

That's all you'll have to work with for how I look. 

Now, I'll not skip to when I went to the restaurant, because, quite frankly, I'm still struggling to open the door and walk out. So wait a bit, please.

©Nightingale