“Everything sounds delicious!” Shelley feigned excitement as she wound and unwound her long black hair around her fingers.
“Get whatever you want,” Eddie shrugged. “Looks like you could use a good meal, he joked.”
Shelley’s fingertips had turned white; she’d wound her hair so tight.
Eddie eyed her warily. “Why are you doing that?”
“Huh?” Shelley quickly let go of her hair. “Oh, bad habit.” Shelley’s throat tightened. Her turned ashen.
The waitress brought a loaf of bread to their table and that’s all it took.
Shelley ran screaming from table.
Phagophobia–a legacy left to Shelley by her mother.