Panic stirred. Had the ability vanished? Was everything earlier stress - induced delusion?
Almost instinctively, she edged toward the office door. Shadows marked the threshold. Crossed it -
Rework direction ... maybe contrast urban textures? Brick walls against silk ...
The thought fragment struck - low, rhythmic, analytical. Current through her nerves!
She recoiled like burned, bumping the file cabinet with "CLANG!" Josh and colleagues turned.
"Emma? You okay?" Josh startled.
"No - I mean yes!" She waved him off, pulse thundering. Eyes locked on distance between herself and Lucas's door. Right before retreating, foot had nearly touched shadow's edge ...
Five meters.
Meeting room distance three meters? Office setup similar? Backing beyond threshold silenced thoughts. Approaching reactivated the connection?
Standing there, stain forgotten, she registered colleagues' background noise as distant static. The number crystallized - five meters. An invisible tether linking her to Lucas Whitley's volcanic inner world beneath icy exterior?
This revelation created more questions than answers. Why five meters? Why only him? Why now?
The door to Luca's office closed behind her like a sluice gate sealing two worlds. She stared at the closed door representing authority and coutless mysteries, palms ice-cold. Reworked proposals now felt trivial.
"Really fine, Josh." She forced a amile, voice wobbing slightly. "Just didn't sleep well last night." Without explanation, she all but fled to her desk. Five meters. The number spiraled in her mind like s trapped wasp, eclipsing everything else - even Luca's cutting "Parisian interns" Thought and the looming pressure to revise the proposal by EOD.
Why five? What was this - a supernatural bluetooth? or her brain's specific malfunction triggered by Lucas Whitely, calibrated to the meter? Slumping into her chaire, she absentmindedly rubbed the coffee stain on her sleeve, emerald eyes glazing over the blinking cursor. She needed answers. Now.
At lunch break, Emma early sprinted from the office. Skipping her usual sala spot, she ducked into Dr.Eileen Shaw's clinic at the street corner, where a brass plaque read "Eileen Shaw, PhD - Clinical Psychology." The space breathed calm with warm neutrals and wooden accents, lavender scent lingering. Dr.Shaw, forties with wire-rimmed glasses, smiled gently.
"Emma, glad to see you, though a week early." She gestured to the armchair. "Big project stress? I saw Victoria's group chat?"
Emma inhald sharply, omitting Lucas's name and specific thoughts:"Doctor, lately in certain situations, I've been hearing ... voices. Not hallucinations commanding me, more like ... other people's thoughts? In my head, crystal clear. Especically under pressure, around specific authority figures."
Dr.Shaw listened intently, pen scratching notes. "Special people? Describe them. Your relationship? Stress sources?"
Chossing words carefully, Emma said, "New boss. Relationship ... strictly professional. High demands." She avoided mentioning those glacial gray eyes and phantom critiques.