Today at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie is Tale Weaver, for which we are to write about a phobia — real or imagined.
“I just love Italian food!” Shelley feigned enthusiasm as she wound and unwound her long black hair around her fingers. “This menu is amazing…”
“Get whatever you want,” Eddie shrugged. “Looks like you could use a good meal.”
“Oh, I can’t decide…”
Eddie wished she’d leave her hair alone. It looked like she was trying to strangle her fingertips with it. “What’s wrong?” Why are you doing that?”
“Huh?” Shelley quickly let go of her hair. “Oh, bad habit.” Her throat tightened and she blanched.
The waitress brought a steaming loaf of bread to their table, and began rattling off the daily specials.
That’s what did it.
Shelley stifled a scream and scrambled for the door—
Phagophobia–a legacy from her mother.