Untitled Short Story Part Three

The buzzing underneath my skin starts as a teeny dot and moves outward in a circular motion, like an invisible mini target meant to make one dizzy if one keeps looking at it.

I examine it closely but can't see anything except pale pink against the yellow on the map of my hand.

I think about the man who approached me on the trail when no one else was around.

Was he carrying some sort of virus and hoping to give it to me?

Or was I being irrationally suspicious of someone who was really just lost?

On the same day of the week, same time, I go back to the trail. The man had scared me before, but now I just wanted another interaction so I could decide whether I was overreacting or I had something legitimate to fear.

I started my run, scrutinizing all figures who came close.

But now that I was looking for him, he wasn't here. 

I ran around the length of the trail once and then started a second run. 

There were more people here now, but none was he.

It was so hard for me to know if something I was thinking was outrageous or justifiable. 

Thin line. 

How do other people know the right thing?

I tried explaining the story to a friend in my head, but she wrote me off as crazy right away. Her opinion, imagined or otherwise, was biased. Why did I bring her into it?

Should I tell someone in real life? They'd tell me to see a doctor if I was worried. What would he do? A test? For what?

Maybe the smartest thing to do was ignore it. Stop feeding the thing energy and helping it grow. 

Then the doctor would ask why I'd been so stupid and let the thing get bad enough to poison my blood supply.

I thought about calling out sick from work and going to the doctor, but the imagined questioning kept me from going through with it.

So, you're here for a buzzing? 

Yes.

In your hand? 

Yes.

From a handshake?

Yes.

Two weeks ago?

Yes.

I obviously have to take my chances and risk death rather than look foolish for a minute to a stranger whose neuroses were probably worse than mine.

Instead, I decide to go back to the trail every week, same time until I see him again and can decide in the moment what to do. If he were in decent shape, then he couldn't be dying from a virus.

The next two trips were uneventful, but on the third, I saw him.

Again we were alone, and he was coming toward me.

I suddenly realized the risk I was taking and regretted having come out here again.

He gave me a look of recognition as he got closer and now I couldn't avoid him. He stopped in front of me.

He thanked me for stopping and telling him how to get to the nature center. He was there with a friend who'd fallen and couldn't walk back to the car. He was in a lot of pain and he'd been able to get him help much faster than if he'd kept wandering looking for the right place to go.

Oh, sure thing, I said. I'm glad it worked out.

He shook my hand, and walked away.