The human mind is a master of architectural dread. It can take a single, out of place detail and construct a skyscraper of anxiety in a matter of seconds. I found myself trapped in one of these mental high rises recently, standing in the sterile, tiled silence of my girlfriend’s bathroom. I had walked in for something as mundane as a glass of water, but I ended up rooted to the spot, my eyes locked onto a small, brown, segmented object resting on a piece of tissue near the sink. I stared at it for over an hour, my brain…
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