The Medium's Palette of Fear

Previously

…One afternoon, playing with a wooden spinning top, I suddenly stopped, my eyes wide. "The man," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "he will drop his oranges. They will roll." A few moments later, a neighbor I’d never met, carrying a basket overflowing with bright citrus, stumbled on the doorstep, his precious cargo scattering across the cobblestones. The incident, a minor accident in the grand scheme of things, solidified a profound unease within my parents. Something was fundamentally different about their child, a truth that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. The isolation, even within the warm embrace of my family, had begun to take root.