Golden Mysteries

"Where do I begin?" Timidly, my voice rang all too loudly in the quiet space. "Begin with one." The therapist wore a yellow tie. "No, zero is first." I wished that tie would leave. "So begin with zero." "Zero is nothing." "Indeed. What does nothing feel like?" The tie sat back, cascading over a ponch. "Space. Empty, lonely space." "Good." The tablet is yellow too, the one he writes on. "And one is.. me! I am one." Suddenly things flew into focus. Memories crashed into my head, two, three, at a time. All of them parts of me. I had two parents, three sisters, four cats, and a goldfish. Gold. The sunlight glistened off the lake. It was early, too early to get up. My body protested. 4:56 AM. I rolled over. He was there beside me. He was cold. I froze. The memory instantly vanished. I had stopped it. But why? "Seven?" prompted the doctor. "No. I gotta go!" I grabbed my jacket and ran from the office. The yellow was making me ill. And seven was too much to handle right now.