Trying to move through a crowd of hundreds would cause anyone to feel overwhelmed. Driving during rush hour may make someone feel a little more on edge, antsy even.

The big hand presses the twelve while the little hand settles down over the four. Beyond the window, the world waits, silent and dark. My mother’s fingers encircle my bony right shoulder, easing it back and forth.

I was reading over the transcript of a psychological report I had dictated and was amused by the diagnosis the transcriptionist had rendered to my patient: Asparagus Disorder.