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“Oh. Your jacket.” I slip it from my shoulders, turning my face so he can’t see my expression.
“Don’t worry about it,” he protests, but I’m too quick.
It’s in my hands, and I’m crossing the room, practically throwing it into his arms. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”
“No problem.” He takes it from me and then, after a moment, turns to hang it on the hook next to the door.
I linger in the same spot, not expecting him to turn back around so quickly, but he does, and it becomes apparent that we are standing unnaturally close.
“Whoa—”
“Sorry, I—”
We both stop mid-sentence and laugh.
His eyes meet mine, and although my instinct is to look away, I don’t.
“I should…probably go to bed.” He bites his bottom lip and then releases it. “Good night, Annalise.”
“Good night, Mackenzie.” I turn and make it all the way to my room before he calls out my name.
“Hey, Annalise?”
I stop, but this time, I don’t turn around. “Yeah?”
“My jacket…it looks good on you. You’re welcome to borrow it anytime.”
12
The brain scan on the computer screen in front of me shows several concerning markers. Its gray matter volume is significantly reduced in both the prefrontal cortex and temporal lobes, not to mention the notable shrinkage in the hippocampus and thalamus regions.
It presents clear, scientific evidence as to why the patient is suffering from delusions. Put simply, the brain is damaged and therefore misinterpreting sensory inputs that simply aren’t there.
My brain scan, on my other screen, is fine. There are no markers—not even a concerning shadow—as I study it yet again over coffee and a half-eaten coconut dream doughnut on a napkin beside me.
I have a literal mountain of files I am supposed to be reviewing this week, but it’s Friday, and my head has been in another place since last weekend at the Gladstone and my latest leather jacket hallucination.
Phillip bends over my left shoulder, studying the screen that I’m doing a terrible job of hiding. “Ahhhhh, now I see it.”
“What? What is it?” My heart climbs straight up into my throat.
Phillip picks up the remainder of my doughnut and takes a bite. “I’m seeing the reason we are backed up on our lab inputs. Mithra called up an hour ago and asked why we were running behind. I insisted you’d been at it all morning and her system must be the issue. Now I’m afraid you’ve made me a liar.”
My stomach twists with guilt. “I’m sorry. I got a little distracted.”
Phillip nods, chewing and swallowing the last bite. “I presume they’re still happening? The hallucinations, I mean.”
I nod, figuring there’s no use denying it. “I had another one on Saturday. It happened when I put on the same jacket. I’m wondering if we overlooked something?”
Phillip scratches his chin. “Do you have it with you now?”
He steps toward the door where my denim jacket is hanging on a hook.
“That’s not it.” I shake my head. “It’s a leather jacket, and it belongs to my roommate.”
Phillip turns and studies me, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits. “Has your roommate experienced the same phenomenon?”
I shake my head, knowing in my heart he’s about to say that my theory is more than flawed.
