two hundred seventy-seven. [The Only Thing They Have To Fear Is...]
“Everyone’s afraid of something,” Rae presses. “You wouldn’t be human otherwise.”
“I can’t tell you. It’s too embarrassing. You’ll laugh.”
“I will not! I promise. I told you mine.”
He shoots her a skeptical look. “Yes, but your fear of the dark is sensible. Why else would they sell so many night lights?”
“Frank.”
“Fine!” He takes a deep breath, gathers his courage. It’s…birds, all-right? I’m afraid of birds. There, happy?”
“Birds? Don’t tell me it’s because of that silly Hitchcock film.”
“No! It’s my mother, and taxidermy…she has a whole collection of stuffed birds. I’ve been scared senseless for years.”
“I can’t tell you. It’s too embarrassing. You’ll laugh.”
“I will not! I promise. I told you mine.”
He shoots her a skeptical look. “Yes, but your fear of the dark is sensible. Why else would they sell so many night lights?”
“Frank.”
“Fine!” He takes a deep breath, gathers his courage. It’s…birds, all-right? I’m afraid of birds. There, happy?”
“Birds? Don’t tell me it’s because of that silly Hitchcock film.”
“No! It’s my mother, and taxidermy…she has a whole collection of stuffed birds. I’ve been scared senseless for years.”