Again with the cycles of anxiety. Coming off of people around me in waves.

Or more like a mist. Like that old Stephen King story.

The one that scared the hell out of me when I was young.

The one that was made into a regrettable movie that I never say.

Which is ok, really. Because it would've likely made me anxious.

Something that is unnecessary, as I am already anxious.

Because it is in the air. Like Spring. Only not like Spring.

Or love. Only not like love.

More like some kind of infection. Like a virus. Only we don't use that

word at work. It makes people nervous. Or anxious.