“And that’s how I can tell if a person is approachable or not. I can see their auras from a mile off,” he said casually.
“I’ve never heard of anyone who can see auras before,” I said. “Don’t you mean you can sense them instead of see them?”
“Oh, I mean I can really see them. They’re pretty visible. They’re like clouds, you see, that hover over a person’s head. They come in all sorts of colors — green, pink, yellow, blue, burgundy, you name it. You, for example, had a creamy-white aura when I came into the room. And then it became lighter. Each person has a different aura, depending on his character, and it can change into different shades depending on his temperament.”
He looked over his shoulder and spotted a man bent on his textbooks in one corner of the library. “See that guy over there?”
“He has a black aura. It changes into a lighter or darker shade depending on his temperament. But whatever shade it may happen to be, it’s always essentially black. That tells you what kind of a character he has. It’s no surprise that he’s all alone. Who would want to be friends with him?”
I scratched the back of my hand.
“See that girl over there with the purple sweater?” he asked.
“Yes?” I answered.
“She’s got a pretty pinkish aura. It changes into a lighter or deeper shade depending on her mood. But it’s still essentially pink. That tells you what kind of a person she is. It’s not surprising why she’s surrounded by people. People are drawn to her character.”
I looked up but I didn’t see any cloudy aura above my head. All I saw was the fluorescent light and the stains on the ceiling.
“Has he been telling you about his crazy “aura” theory?” the girl with the purple sweater was asking. She was standing beside our table now, her left hand holding a notebook, her right hand on her hips.
“It’s not a theory,” he said. “I can really see them.”
“Don’t listen to my brother,” the girl said. “He’s just pulling your leg.”