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The mobile is ringing.  It gets closer and closer, and louder and louder.  It has finally arrived at her ear canal.

She meticulously rolls on her left side, she hazily reads the screen.  It reads 'Femme Fatale'.

She mumbled "I have no idea who this is, and why is she in my contacts?"

She then receives a text message from Femme Fatale.  No number is listed.  It reads 'agoRaPHobiaC'.

Theres a picture attached to the message.  She opens it and its her!  She wearily asked herself "When did I go this concert, and who are these faces?"

"Where in the world am I?"  "Who took these pictures of me in these open and public places?"  

She never leaves the house.  She never opens the blinds.  She's NEVER met anyone named Femme Fatale.  Her body slowly elevates 3 feet above her mattress.  Her blood pressure rises.

She screams with disappointment "Oh my god, I'm having another crisis!"

She floats to her medicine cabinet, moving her arms and holding her breath, as if she was under water.

Last week a bull was sleeping in the bath tub, the week before, she was beamed up to a UFO.  The scars on her wrist proves she was slaughtered.  

The mobile is ringing.  It gets closer and closer, and louder and louder.  
It has finally arrived at her ear canal.

She meticulously rolls on her right side, she hazily reads the screen.  It reads 'agoraphobiac'.

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