I couldn’t help thinking the woman on the treadmill next to mine at the gym was a total psychopath. It was her perfume. It gave me a clawing headache, complete with seeing stars.
I memorized her features, so I could avoid her in the future, and got off the treadmill to do something else. A minute later, she followed and got onto a machine next to me. I couldn’t believe it. Then, I realized that she wasn’t the one wearing scent, even though she was made-up in a bunch of other ways. It must’ve been the woman on the other side of me.