Colin’s favorite number was thirteen. Not because he wanted to be different, or because it happened to be the date of his birth. No, nothing silly like that. It was more because he seemed to be continually bumping into it. In a way, he kind of felt obligated .

For one, Colin took thirteen pills on a weekly basis. And he’d been taking them for exactly thirteen months. It really wasn’t so much that he suffered from any real problems, in fact most of his “prescriptions” were placebos. Poor Colin’s only ailment was what his mother liked to call “acute hypochondria”.

But I digress.

Thirteen, sadly, was also the number of shrinks he’d seen in those same thirteen months. It was the number on his apartment door. His favorite word (Molluscicidal) had thirteen letters and began with the thirteenth letter of the alphabet.

Coincidence? I think so, but apparently Colin does not. Then again Colin is taking thirteen different pills…Placebos or not, there’s something deeply disturbing about that.