Mesmerized

been a pretty shade of turquoise. But instead of a rim of darker blue surrounding her irises, they were rimmed by a thick band of iridescent silver.

    “Oh my God,” she whispered. As she stared, the silver seemed to flare into a deep glow and swirl around her irises like cars around a racetrack. She closed her eyes and opened them again. The silver was still there. “Hallucinations!”

    She ran to her desk and pulled out a journal, jotting down her latest symptom.

    Sensitivity to light, enhanced hearing so I can’t sleep without noise cancellation headphones, aversion to fish, crave meat and broccoli, nails growing faster, HEADACHES, HEADACHES, HEADACHES, stuffy nose, addiction to peanut butter, weight loss, general weakness …

    The strange symptoms went on for three pages. She read the list until panic stirred in her breast. Claustrophobic in the dark cave that had become her home, she grabbed her coat and purse and set out into the cold, brisk evening. She didn’t want to die, and she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life without ever seeing the sun again like Brad Pitt in Interview with the Vampire.

    She joined crowds of people milling through downtown Crystal City to see the Christmas displays and shop. The sight of such normalcy calmed her, until someone brushed against her.

    A man’s face, a woman in the hospital on her death bed, their children surrounding them.

    “I’m so sorry!” someone said, steadying her as she staggered under the impact of the sudden image. Her vision cleared, and she looked into the face of the man from her vision, though he was much younger standing before her.

    “I’m okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”

    He continued on his way, holding out his hand to the woman awaiting him. The same woman who would die in twenty-three years from ovarian cancer.

    More hallucinations. Nothing more, she told herself. Sofia shrugged the sense of foreboding away and stuffed her hands into her pockets. Her fingers brushed the folded paper Jake had given her. She pulled it free, once again compelled to stare at the name written there. She made her way to a coffee shop and sat at a table in the darker end of the shop, hot cocoa in hand. Someone careened into her as she pried her cell from her pocket.

    “Cody, watch where you’re going!” a mother scolded the little boy sprawled on the floor.

    Sofia reached for him, helping him to his feet.

    Cody, sprawled in the middle of the street after being hit by a car, blood trickling from his skull into a nearby storm drain. His dark eyes open and staring.

    “Sorry about that,” the young mother said, flashing a smile.

    “No problem.” Sofia blinked out of her stupor. Yet another symptom of her illness: insanity! She looked again at the name on the paper and dialed.

    “This is Sondra. How may I direct your call?” a pleasant voice answered.

    “Um, hi, I, uh, found this number on Dr. Bylun’s blog. I’m not sure he can help me, but I would really like to speak to him.”

    “We have a Mr. Bylun, but he doesn’t have a blog. Perhaps you have the wrong number?”

    “Okay, I admit someone else said they found this on his blog and said I should call,” Sofia said. There was a moment of silence, and she could almost see Sondra assessing what to do.

    “Why don’t you leave me your name, and if Mr. Bylun believes it in his best interest, he’ll return your call.” The cryptic response made her hesitate. Sofia sighed and raked a hand through her hair.

    “Why not. I don’t have anything to lose. My name is Sofia Fast from Crystal City, Virginia.”

    “And what is your call regarding?” Sondra asked.

    “I’m sick. I have some sort of disease no one can diagnose, and one of my coworkers gave me this number to try.”

    “Who referred you?”

    “Jake Hampton.” She heard the secretary typing.

    “I’m afraid he’s not in my system,” Sondra said. “I’ll deliver your message. Please don’t be surprised if Mr. Bylun opts not to return your call.”

    Sofia hung up and stared at the number on the paper, wondering if Jake had lied to her or if he flat out screwed up the number. He really wasn’t a man of detail, which was why she was so surprised to see him working as a financial planner. She’d definitely never trust her money to him. Her cell rang, and she recognized her doctor’s number.

    “Ms. Fast, this is Linda from Dr. Mallard’s office,” an older woman’s voice said.

    “Hi