Turophorophobia

From The Abyss, Autumn Equinox 1999 edition, vol. 1.7

She glanced up carefully from the floor, where her eyes had been assiduously fixed since she entered the room. It was her table, so she sat down. Restaurants were so much work! At home she had full control, and didn’t have to deal with it if she didn’t want to. But here, there were so many people, and each of them could have ordered anything. She had to assume the worst, just to preserve her wellbeing; better not to look at anyone’s table than to risk seeing that stuff. It was so unreal! There was no way it could be natural, no way it could be an animal product. She could handle it by itself, in its usual form, but there was something about the way it lay flaccidly when cut up, the way it spread and covered everything when heated, that made her quiver and curdle inside. And people were so fond of it! They wanted it on everything. She’d had to strictly train her servers not to offer it to her, because the one time someone had asked her, even the thought of her food defiled by that plasticky abomination had left her screaming. She had Turophorophobia, the fear of things with cheese on them.

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