Cluckstruck — The Man In The Green Shirt

I have a face phobia. That's not a figure of speech. Since I was seven, the second I see a complete human face, my body shuts down. Mild cases, I get dizzy and my vision blurs. Bad cases, I foam at the mouth and my limbs seize up.

The worst one happened at a shopping mall. I saw a massive poster of some male celebrity. After that, my parents spent a fortune flying in a psychologist from overseas. After six months of intensive hypnotherapy, my brain finally learned how to save itself.

Every face I look at, except my own, automatically turns into the same thing. A screaming rubber chicken, bright yellow head, round bulging eyes, a beak stretched open like it's about to let out an Ridiculous, I know. But at least I could function like a normal person again.

Three months ago, I told this secret to Blake Collins, the guy I'd been dating online for a year. He went quiet for a long moment. So babe, I'm a chicken to you too? I reassured him.

Don't worry. You're definitely the best-looking chicken out there. That seemed to calm him down. He said that on the day we finally met in person, he'd wear the green shirt I bought him so I could recognize him by it. So today, I got to the cafe half an hour early, 10 o'clock sharp. A man in a green

shirt pushed open the door. I looked up on instinct. The next second, my whole body