• E.S.P. : n. [e(xtra) s(ensory) p(erception)] the ability to acquire information by paranormal means independent of any known physical sense(s) or deduction from previous experience; see ‘precognizance.’
    also: 1) n. [e(xtra) s(ensory) p(rojection)] the ability to release kinetic energy using one’s mental capacities and without the use of one’s physical body; 2) v. the act of using E.S.P., or ‘projecting’; see ‘psychokinesis.’

    Cool Autumn dawn – sinister serenity – rustled stiffly under the feet of the stubborn runner. The full of Winter’s icy bounty not yet having taken reign, this young gentleman kept at the pace of his long-gone Summer like the stitches kept at his sides.
    A siren blared off down the street, screeching in vain; aside from the two coming closer and closer, the only thing that could really get out of the way was the frost upon the callous blacktop-it failed to do so. As the ambulance-ironically-went mercilessly at the sparkling, crisp faeries upon the roads, their softer sisters in the trees would shudder in sorrow to watch it pass, leaving twin trails of black destruction.
    And the runner came closer, the frosts more stoic to him than they were even to the doggedly walking, bundled up old man.
    “Morn’ng”-through a dreadfully stuffy nose.
    “Good morning!”-clear as the brisk sunlight now stretching eagerly across the skies, minus the glory of the beams; in fact, to compare his voice to the dawn was to compare the edge of cotton to that of a razor, respectively. The old man progressed to butcher the lyrics to ‘Eye of the Tiger’ -though in his current state of impediment, it was more or less ‘Ira the Liger’ –to add some theme to his incessant jog.
    This was the way it had been for almost a year. In fact, in exactly one week, the dull voice of the young man would have responded with these two words to the old man exactly three hundred and sixty-five times.
    Three hundred and sixty-five!
    But, of course, the man was a little less inclined to say the exact same thing everyday; he came up with some queer statements to throw at the young lad on holidays, as they even passed on Christmas, but was still met with the base Good morning.
    Perhaps some kind of treat on their anniversary? Something that would actually make him laugh. For-though he gave that chuckle that I find rather sardonic and unheartfelt-the boy had never actually laughed. He did not seem to have any syndromes to be a stumbling block, and the man had shot off some quite witty remarks, thank you very much.
    These things bumped around mildly in his mind before the man reached his destination; the office in which he practiced psychiatry. Jeffrey “Jerry” Murray McCallister, Ph.D-and a former one-time Jeopardy contestant, something he had legion pride for, much moreso than that former 3-letter title. He was of the mindset that having a degree in psychiatry, psychology, sociology or anything like them simply taught one how to use the jargon of the subject; otherwise, you had every piece of knowledge necessary to begin with - Dave Barry was his favorite essayist. Whether or not this mindset is sound is worthy of debate, and though it is probably false, I’m sure anyone of such a field that reads this will be quite flustered at Jerry’s deprecation of your good names, though he only means just a slight offense to get you off your high-chairs; though, if you find it comical, good for you!
    “Honey, I’m home!” Jerry called out to his receptionist with a laugh.

    “I’m sorry, what?”
    “Espra. Most people are not used to it.”
    Jerry gave a laugh. “I”ll say! Is it short for something-a nickname?”
    “No. My mother said it had some meaning, but she never told anyone what it was.”
    Jerry, exhilarated by finally talking to the young man, could perceive a peculiar truth within the boy’s still eyes that he was not sharing.
    “Well... do you have any guesses?”-Jerry was never afraid to make personal inquiries.
    “I do, but it is very unlikely.”
    "... Care to share?" -Ha! That didn't even rhyme on purpose.
    "Actually, I do care."
    "Well, that's unexpected!" -Jerry was beginning to think the young man was being spiteful, but did not show this suspicion.
    "The first three letters of my name - E.S.P. ..."