Damian's Oracle

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Her cell rang. She dug it out of her pocket.

"Hey, Tanya," she said, kicking off her shoes. "What's up?"

"Hey, hon, Jake told me you quit work?"

"Jake?" she echoed.

"He's still a dick. You're not seeing him again, are you?"

"Tanya, I have a headache. I'll call you later."

Sofia hung up, frustrated. She emptied her pockets and tossed her lunch in the fridge. When she retreated to the bathroom, she flipped on the light, cringed, but forced herself to stare at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

She was going to die. She just knew it. Whatever her disease, it had eluded the doctors for months. By the time they found out what it was, she'd probably be near dead, like stage four cancer. She stared at her reflection, caught by something else that didn't seem right. She leaned forward, staring at her irises. Her favorite feature, her eyes, had always 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."