by CrazyAnglican on Sat Nov 10, 2007 2:14 am
A most dangerous habit and yet so firmly ingrained that he knew nothing of it. Blinking, breathing, counting....they were so inextricably intertwined. The counting of people in a room, bricks on a wall, straight lines in a business office full of cubicles. No one seemed to notice this quiet obsession and truly it would have been harmless to anyone around him were it not for the dark specter that consumed his soul and drove him ever closer to the precipitous edge of unreason.
I'm speaking of course of his paranoia. Like any such thing it began slowly with innoucuous and idiosyncratic habits. He stopped shaking hands with even his closest friends. He began refusing to sit with his back to a door or window. While others noticed this they tried, understandably, to hide their discomfort from him. This was all the sign he needed. Those false, friendly smiles and tense greetings were all he needed to confirm his deepest fears. He uncovered plot upon plot, only to reappear the next day more besieged than ever by his manifold enemies. Something had to be done; it was a matter of self-preservation. Allan would not allow himself to fall victim to the nefarious plots of his various "would-be" assailants. He was aware; and constant vigilence would allow him to walk away as others fell victim to his mechanations.
