The next day

You were distracted at work the next day, you couldn't focus on the job worth a damn and you rung up several customers incorrectly. Most of them were willing to forgive, particularly the men, but you were sure you weren't doing anything to help your future business. Instead of losing your train of thought like usual, this one seemed determined to reach its destination: every time you thought of your family, Roy in parti-

Roy is such a good boy.

You should get Roy a present, he's been such a good boy lately! Of course, you don't want to show favoritism so you'd have to get John a present too... Why hadn't you thought of John? It wasn't like he was slacking, if anything he'd been more productive than Roy-

It's so sad he's never had a girlfriend.

Oh. Right. John had had a bunch of girlfriends since you'd come into his life but Roy was always a little socially awkward and had trouble making those connections.

He should know how to kiss so he can get a girlfriend.

But you knew he could get one if he just knew how to really give a kiss. Your logic for that thought still seemed a little odd but you accepted it as fact, knowing on some subliminal level that questioning inevitably lead to splitting migraines. The random pains were better after you'd gotten a good nights sleep but you were a little worried you might be developing some sort of compulsive behavior with these same thoughts popping into your head like clockwork no matter what you were-

You should teach Roy how to kiss.

Your stomach dropped uncomfortably even as your mind carefully avoided questioning or in fact thinking about the destination of your train of thought. It was always the same and it was always a surprise that it popped up... you couldn't teach Roy how to kiss! You'd have to... well... kiss him. On the lips. Like a girlfriend would. Show him how to really drive a girl wild... which of course you couldn't do because he was your son for God's sake! Stabbing pain shot through your head as you rejected the thought -again- and the elderly woman you were helping gave you a concerned look while the her grandson took advantage of your bent over position to look down your shirt.

"Are you alright dear?" You give a strained smile.

"Yes, sorry about that. I've been getting these awful migraines." She gives you a knowing look, fishing through her purse.

"Go to the doctor and ask for this." She pulls out a pen and scribbles something on an old receipt, handing it to you. "It'll do wonders."

You thank her and carry on with your day, making a note to ask your doctor about the medication

Roy is such a good boy.

"Good boy..." You whisper tiredly.

You're exhausted by the time you leave the shop. Your mind continuously running on some kind of demented hamster-wheel with tacks on one rung. Your subconscious urged you to just accept the conclusion: You have to teach Roy how to kiss. But your conscious mind rejected it every time, leading to stabbing pain which seemed worse every time. The pain was becoming constant and you could swear you were getting a fever, like your mind was rejecting a foreign object... or a donor organ.