I spent the last of the company funds on a plane ticket to meet one last private investor. If it didn’t work, I’d have to close the company and take whatever salaried job I could find – and the market was tough.

I slogged my way through Heathrow toward Terminal 3 where my flight to Zurich flew out. I knew from previous travels there were several sit down breakfast options and I was in desperate need of coffee and an actual meal.

I dragged my overnight bag to the restaurant with the shortest line and stepped into the queue behind several families, one with a screaming child trying to escape down the hallway and another with an autistic teen who was rocking with anticipation. The teen turned around and waved at me. I waved back.

The line went quickly and I was taken to a small table on the far side of the crowded restaurant. When the server approached, I ordered an Americano and a serving of pancakes. I was fading fast. She jotted the order in a small notebook and walked away without a smile.

Hurry, I willed the waitress closing my eyes, then leaned my head back against the wall. I was so tired.

‘Pancakes!’ screeched a voice that made my head jerk up. I looked around to see who’d shouted in my ear. I doubted it was the couple holding hands and speaking in low tones on my right, nor the single older man to my left finishing an English Breakfast. Must have been the shrieking child I saw in line somewhere on the other side of the restaurant. Children’s voices could be piercing when they wanted something.

Now wasn’t the time to nap anyway.

I took out a folder from my bag and went over the pitch, yet again. I had memorized it days ago, but a sinking feeling, like I’d forgotten something, was creeping into my consciousness. The words went blurry and I rubbed my eyes.

You’ll be fine once the coffee arrives, I convinced myself. I was desperate for caffeine.

I thumbed through the notes I had so meticulously written – facts about the investor and her company, bullet points of why she should invest in us, how we could benefit her if she did.

‘Hedgehog!’ A voice far too excited for my current state exclaimed in my head.

I looked up from my notes and glanced around again, irritated. Someone needed to calm their child.

The coffee arrived and I took a large sip of the lukewarm liquid, sighing with relief as I felt the caffeine ripple from my stomach out to my limbs.

You’re fine, I mentally calmed myself. Coffee will fix this. It’s just jet-lag.

My mind began to click back into action like a watch that’d just been wound. I continued to sip and envisioned the meeting. I saw myself walking into her office with confidence, owning the room.

‘Don’t forget the hedgehog.’ This time I realized the voice was coming from inside my head.

Hedgehog? What does that mean, I asked myself, wondering what my subconscious was trying to tell me. I barely knew what a hedgehog was. We don’t have them in Colorado. Why would I be saying that to myself?

‘Hedgehog!’ The voice said louder and I began to realize it didn’t sound like my voice. It was higher pitched and much faster speaking, as if the words were being thrust out. My own voice had a low, slow cadence, even when I spoke to myself in thought.

Hedgehog. I strained my brain. Was that a competitor I missed? Another investment she made recently?

I pulled out my phone and did a google search for Hedgehog and any name variations. Nothing came up other than pictures of the actual animal.

I’m just tired, I convinced myself and drained the rest of the coffee.

My pancakes arrived and I ordered a second Americano to-go, this time a double. I needed to head to my gate soon.

The feeling that I’d missed something was now becoming a nagging fear, but I couldn’t figure out what I’d failed to see. I again thumbed through my notes, trying to find the missing piece. So much was riding on this.

‘Hedgehog!’ The voice literally screamed in my mind, so loud it reverberated in my skull.

I began to panic. This was no time for a psychotic break. I’d spent weeks preparing for this. It had taken months to get this woman on the phone, much less get a meeting scheduled. I could not blow this. It was my last chance.

I was feeling itchy from the caffeine and the growing anxiety. I rubbed my eyes and finished my pancakes but my stomach was in knots.

‘Get the hedgehog.’ The voice directed.

My eyes began to well with tears. This was not ideal. If I couldn’t get a grasp on my own mental health this meeting would be a non-starter.

The waitress came with the to-go cup and I paid straight away. My breath was getting shorter and I started to feel the constriction of the crowd. I quickly grabbed the coffee and maneuvered my suitcase through the restaurant toward the exit.

As I emerged from the venue, I saw the autistic teen and his mother. She was holding his hand, coaxing his body to follow and confirming to him they were headed to the bathrooms. He walked jauntily, struggling to make his body do what his mind asked of it.

I stood in the concourse taking deeps breaths, thankful to be in a more open space.

All of a sudden the boy stopped next to me and said jovially, “I’m Ben. What’s your name?”

The external experience diverted my internal conflict and I forced a smile, “Hi Ben, I’m Samantha.” I wanted to make sure he felt seen and heard, as all autistic people should be.

“How’re pancakes?” he asked in words that clearly took extra effort to speak aloud.

He must have seen me eating from across the restaurant.

“Good. What did you have?”

“Pancakes!” He confirmed with gusto.

I smiled, a genuine one this time. “Good choice. They were tasty, huh? Nice to meet you, Ben.” I waved and turned away toward my gate.

“Hedgehog!” he yelled after me. “Hedgehog! Hedgehog! Hedgehog!”

It was then I realized it was his voice I had heard in my head. I stopped in my tracks and turned around with an open mouth.

His mother just smiled, as if her child awed people like this every day. “C’mon Ben,” she gently urged. “We’re going to the bathroom, remember?”

I picked my mouth up off the floor as I watched them walk away.

‘Don’t forget the hedgehog!’ His voice rang loud in my skull once more as he looked back at me with a smile so I could see he hadn’t spoken that aloud.

On the way to my gate I stopped to buy a water. To the left of the fridge was a display with stuffed animals. A medium-sized plush hedgehog stared at me.

I debated a moment, wondering if I was crazy, then grabbed it, paid for it and my water, and shoved the stuffed animal into my bag.

I got to my gate, boarded, and had a quiet flight to Zurich.

I arrived at the meeting on time, but when the secretary opened the door to the investor’s office, I was surprised to find a small child in a pink dress in the chair behind her desk. Tears were streaming down the girls face. She snuffled in surprise as I walked in but immediately began to cry again.

The investor came in right behind me looking frazzled with a small carton of chocolate milk.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she made her way to the child and tried to console her with the milk. The little girl cried harder and screamed, “No!!” swatting the carton away with an angry thrash of her arm. Clearly milk was not what she wanted.

The investor sighed, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. My nanny called in sick and my husband is out of town. I forgot to bring her Little Nelly and… well…” She waved a hand toward the crying child showing the result.

All of a sudden it clicked.

“Would a surrogate help?” I asked, and pulled out the hedgehog.

The child immediately stopped crying.

The investor stared at me in awe.

“How did you know?” she asked in shock.

“Know what?” I was confused.

I handed the little girl the plushie and she cuddled it happily.

“Her Little Nelly is a hedgehog. Hedgehogs are her favorite. How did you know?”

I definitely couldn’t say the boy in the restaurant told me through telepathy, so I just shrugged.

The investor smiled and ushered me over to the couch where we both took a seat. “Well with that kind of intuition, this meeting seems like a formality.”

I smiled and mentally thanked Ben.

Then I heard his voice in my head one last time.

‘You’re welcome.’

A story is only half-written until it is put out into the world. Without a reaction from the reader, words are merely letters grouped together. I believe a story truly comes alive when it provokes emotion or compels a reader to see things from a new perspective. That is my goal.

I hope what I write entertains you, tickles your imagination, and inspires you to think outside the box. Enjoy!