"Mom, no. No, I'm fine."

"Fine? Honey, "fine" isn't an emotion." Jen's mom was a child psychiatrist. Whenever her children hid something from her, didn't tell her the whole truth or flat out didn't talk, she'd use her psychology methods to get what she wanted.

Jen sat up in her bed. "Mom, please, please," - she shut her eyes tightly -" please, don't shrink me. Not now."

"Honeybear," Jen's father spoke up over their speakerphone call, "we're just worried. I mean, two panic attacks in six months? We're terryfied!"

He was right. Jen had had two other freak attacks before.

She heaved a great sigh and sank back into her pillows. She said her goodbyes and told her mom she would call again later. After a moment, she fell asleep.

~ ~ ~ ~

When Jen woke up, Allan was standing outside her door. She sat up and madly fixed her hair. Had he seen her sleeping? What is she snored? Jen had liked Allan since the very first time she saw him; standing over the nurse's station at the hospital. They talked for a while and he seemed like a great guy.

He opened the door, followed by his friend Nick.


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