Sparks and a Girl (Rewritten to publish)

1. Sparks at first sight

The world slipped away around her. Her hands were rubber as she hopelessly tried to escape the choke hold. He didn't let up. It was like falling asleep, only a whole lot more painful. Her head would explode soon – an excruciating, inescapable eventuality. The darkness at the edge of her vision hemmed in closer, eventually blanketing her.

She woke up to the intense scent of smelling salts and immediately rolled away, flipping into a defensive position. Fifteen years of martial arts classes had bred in her a visceral abhorrence to feeling vulnerable and out of control. She glared at her martial arts instructor as she organised her thoughts, tensing her muscles in case of an attack. Most times her instructor wouldn't give her time to recover, and she'd taught herself to be ready for that. He didn't move toward her this time. She straightened up and smiled.

He grimaced.

This was going to be fun.

No use being taught what you couldn't practise.

Half an hour later, Jeisa's strawberry and cream shampoo fragrance heavily perfumed the dissipating shower steam that followed her out of the gym showers. She was soon pulling her mostly dry hair into a loose ponytail, pleased to see that the few silver strands that streaked through the walnut brown were well hidden. It was always weird trying to explain why she was going grey at twenty-two. Even weirder was trying to explain why these strands weren't just plain grey but had a noticeable metallic glimmer to them and, to those who looked close and long enough, neon white arcs pulsing from the grey roots to tips every few minutes. But she wasn't "going grey". She'd possessed those grey strands and the specks of metallic grey in her honey brown eyes from birth.

She pulled on a pair of fitting black cargos, a black tee, and a slim-fit black bomber jacket with more zips than it needed, most of them asymmetrical, then looked at her phone. She was going to be late if she didn't move faster. She finished her look with a pair of black combat boots, tucking the ends of her pants into them before strapping the laces tight. But she didn't immediately stand up, even though she could feel the weight of every passing second.

She eventually forced herself to her feet.

"Bye, Coach," Jeisa said, finally making it out of the locker room.

The imposing, six foot five, middle aged dad of four pointed at the permanent marker butterflies tattooed on his face. "You're going to pay for this."

Jeisa gave him a cheeky smirk. He was never going to let her practise the chokehold on him ever again.

"Google says that makeup remover will have it fading in about two days." Jeisa replied, hitching her duffel bag higher onto her shoulder.

"Right after my class with the ten-year-old girls," Coach replied darkly. "The most vicious of all humans in existence."

"Dibs on your custom belt display holder after your untimely demise from their soul crushing teasing!" Jeisa laughed as she walked out of the dojo and towards her old white truck.

The truck was a gift from her dad for her eighteenth birthday, kept in excellent condition by her mechanical engineer friends and favourite couple, Krystle and Kyle. It was massive and nothing more than a gas guzzler, but she absolutely loved driving it around.

The sun dipped past the horizon and the biting chill that followed declared an earlier than usual arrival of autumn. The warm air pouring from the truck's vents was a welcome reprieve, but not for long. Jeisa pulled into a parking lot a couple of blocks from the convenience store. As she walked over to the convenience store, she stuck to the cold, impassive shadows that purged all emotion from her while simultaneously ratcheting up her nerves and flooding her blood with adrenaline. All the while, she carefully watched the buildings and streets she walked by.