"You know, I didn't think it was a real fear for a long time. Just one of those textbook ones, like fear of peanut butter sticking to your mouth and fear of kissing - like anybody's gonna be afraid of that."
"You have a point, but this one looks pretty real to me."
"You said it."
Winters flipped the switch again. The young woman on the other side of the window twitched softly, then leapt back as a light breeze brushed against her, causing her checkered dress to rustle. Ten seconds later, another flip of the switch, and the small electric fan in the corner ceased.
"Fear of air drafts, you say?"
"And natural wind, of course. Although they use ancraophobia to separate the two sometimes. Interchangeable, really. But she's really quite frightened of it."
"That I can gather. Any speculations on what might've triggered it?"
"Actually, it seems rather apparent, if you'll take a look at her case history," Winters replied, tossing a manila folder at Jenkins. He ruffled through the pages slowly, scanning, and then ..
"A-ha. That would do it, I suppose. Survived a tornado early last year. Hey, what's this - says something about wiccaphobia, too?"
"Oh yes, that. Funny business. Took a bump on the head during the twister. When she woke up, she started ranting and raving about landing in a foreign land. Full of little people, a scarecrow, a man made of iron or something or other, a talking lion, and some 'wicked witch'. A bunch of nonsense, really - we chalked it up to the general trauma and confusion. She's still insisting it really happened, but whatever the case, she won't go near a broomstick these days."
"How fascinating! Two phobias, one based on reality and one based on fiction. Should make for an excellent case study."
"Indeed. It's sure to get me my doctorate. Dorothy X: Little Girl Lost."
"Say, I like the sound of that. Well, I certainly wish you the best of luck, Winters. Shall I hit the switch again?"
"By all means. This time, hold for twenty seconds, if you don't mind ..."