Scarecrow felt that itching sensation at the back of his mind, that strange new compulsion to feel close to someone. Without sight, however, it was easily pushed aside. It was the fear, he knew. Fear was his only way of empathizing, so the fear of others brought him closer to that terrible point. He had to be careful.

On reflex, he pulled his glasses down just a little. "I am afraid that you are. It is, however, treatable. There are things others say you have done but of which you have no memory, isn't it? This illness is the reason for it."