Romance In A Column

chapter ten,

     People feel things differently.

    After hearing this, of course, one would interpret it as a matter of 'perspectives.' But just like any other theory in the metaphorical textbook that is Eryn Sallow's thoughts, the phrase priorly mentioned has a different connotation than what common sense might have one believe.

    Eryn believes people experience their emotions differently on an anatomical level—which is quite a claim to make considering she barely scraped by her general education science courses in college and retained none of the material. Which is to say, the possibility of her speculation having a legitimate explanation or having been completely debunked at some point in history is high—either way, she wouldn't know.

    To exemplify, imagine a scenario with anger. Somewhere, Eryn had read there are several times of anger, however since it's an undeveloped theory the following will be illustrated with basic concepts.

    In her personal case, Eryn's anger brews in her gut. It's a boiling and volatile liquid with a mind of its own and a taste for self-destruction, spilling from the pit of her stomach into her bloodstream and feeding poison into her heart.

    Whereas sadness lodges in her throat, a strainer through which time, life, and oxygen is unable to pass. It's a contagious emptiness in her lungs, a quickly expanding plague that consumes all her organs until death is a pretty, bow-wrapped word for her insides.

    At the moment Eryn is more so worried about anticipation.

    Following the original thought process, people feel things differently and they interpret emotions differently. Some people transcribe feelings from emotions, they digest and comprehend before reacting—an envidiable ability as far as Eryn is concerned. But what she likes to think are the majority, often hold accountable their emotions for regrettable approaches to situations.

    You see for Eryn Sallow, anticipation is an all consuming dread product of pessimistic thinking. Her senses—either because they go into overdrive or simply escape the scene—are numbed, her limbs move as they're expected to yet don't respond to her neurological messages. The most comparable situation Eryn can think of is an out of body experience.

    Her body operates through muscular memory and her subconscious mind whilst her consciousness is strapped onto a chair with front sit view to an unfolding disaster.

    Maybe she should know better than to but regardless, Eryn is the tiniest bit thankful. Because if the contrary was the case, the second anticipation flared in her body Eryn would likely subtract herself from the frontlines of chaos.

    But chaos isn't exactly the appropriate word to describe the facility Eryn is moments away from entering.

    To her left, the driver's door falls shut besides her. Drawing her attention from the Boston Celtics training center to the inside of Wren's car.

    Internally, she's frozen in place. A paused object inside continuously moving surroundings. Externally, an arm extends to retrieve her purse from besides her feet and proceeds to pick up the bubblegum wrappers and Wren's emptied water bottle.

    To her right, the passenger door is opened by a grinning Wren Allen who peers down at Eryn. "You ready?"

    A meager 'yeah' leaves Eryn's plump lips but the answer is not her own because much like in the car, she's in the passenger seat of her body with a seat belt that refuses to budge and can only hope that the driver—in this case her subconscious—won't cause too much of a wreckage with her career and all around life.

    "Okay," he says, taking a step back once Eryn steps out of the car. "You nervous?"

    "A little," Eryn confesses, acutely aware it's amongst the biggest understatement of the century. "It's been awhile since I did interviews and the ones I did back then weren't of this like, caliber, if that makes sense."