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Emily Charlton has been a seer since high school, or what she would prefer to call herself: a visionary.
The visions could be triggered in various ways, picking up a runway magazine at 14, witnessing a sharper Emily running around New York picking up Chanel boots.
Touch, sight. One time even a simple thought flung her into the future.
The fashion department hired a new intern that morning. She was supposed to bring some notes over to Emily for her to check and hand over to Miranda.
Normally Andy Andrea, she corrected herself, was supposed to handle this but she was out running errands.
So the pesky job fell in her not already busy enough hands. Emily was excited to judge the fuck out of her.
The elevator doors glide open, and with them does Emily’s mouth.
The intern walks in and shes wearing gorgeous Vivienne Westwood clothes.
She trails her eyes from the girls shoes to the dress her big brown doe eyed face..
her mouth feels dry all of a sudden
And then, distracted by the interns eyes she hadn’t noticed one thing.. her own eyes go wide.
The most hideous bleach blonde hair she has ever seen in her entire life. The heat in her nek going cold instantly.
The girl ,smiling big and bright as innocently as one specific second assistant, mistakes Emily’s wide eyed stare for praise.
“It’s gorgeous right I did it myself yesterday I think it went pretty well if I say so my-
Whoosh
Whenever Emily had her visions into the future she never jumped into her own body, She just floats a few feet behind.
A bathroom came into view, white tiles, beautiful gold rimmed tub, Emily smiled to herself. She’s done a pretty good job decorating.
She glanced at the figure before her. Emily started analysing her older self, around forty? Chanel dress, stunning really.
Very happy to not have turned fat the older she got, she was quite pleased with the figure standing before her. Posture could use some work. Everything seemed perfectly in order.
Emily glanced at her seasoned face reflected in the mirror.
She frowns
Slightly parted lips are trembling, her nose flushed red, mascara streaming down her cheeks and eyelids clenched tight, which is doing exactly nothing to stop the tears.
Jesus Christ, surely Miranda didn’t exile her from Runway.. right? No there’s no way. Maybe she and Andy-
she shakes the thought away
Emily’s eyes move to her counterparts hand gripping something tightly, a little plastic bag with white powder inside it.
For exactly half a second Emily assumed she simply started doing hard drugs in her forties.
It is much worse.
bleach
Bloody hell
During one of Emily’s little blasts to the future, she discovered she had the ability to make herself materialise. Admittedly not for very long and no one but her other self could see her. But long enough to take a quick action.
She yanks on Emily premiums shoulder spinning her around.
The woman was about to make a, most likely whiny little, sound when-
*whack*
Emily juniors hand slapped her sobbing mess of a future self hard.
“Are you mad?! Absolutely not.”
She yanks the bag out of her trembling hand and throws it out the window.
“Get ur shit together! Fucking pathetic.”
whoosh
Bleach blonde hair and deep brown eyes come back into view, Emily smiles to herself, ignoring the girl completely and snatching the notes out of her hands.
Crisis averted.
Somewhere, years into the future, in some sort of reality. A 42 year old Emily Charlton is staring dumbfounded into the now empty space in her bathroom. No longer crying and filled with some strange sense of determination, she goes to search for her phone.