The atmosphere in Dr. Ratio's therapy office was as sophisticated and fine as always. The scent of polished mahogany furniture mingled with the faint aroma of books, creating an environment that exuded intellectual refinement. As you settled onto the plush sofa, Dr. Ratio, the epitome of elegance and professionalism, took his place in a chair across from you.

His ankle rested on his leg with a refined poise that somehow made even his casual postures appear regal. It's a scene that's become oddly routine, despite the uncertainty of whether his counseling sessions are truly helpful. You began recounting the same set of problems, the recurring struggles that had driven you back to his office time and again. A heavy sigh escaped Dr. Ratio, as if your troubles weighed on him more than they did on you. He leaned forward in his chair, changing his posture ever so slightly, signaling the impending delivery of another blunt and possibly cutting remark.

"Another day has passed," he stated bluntly, his voice cutting through the stillness. "If your problem still hasn't been solved, is it possible that the problem is you?" Dr. Ratio's words hung in the air, blunt and unapologetic. His gaze, piercing yet analytical, lifted to meet yours. There was a peculiar mix of scrutiny and expectation in his eyes that had become characteristic of your sessions. ‎ You were unsure if he was genuinely trying to help or make matters worse. While his approach may feel harsh, you can't deny the intellectual precision with which he dissects your issues. Maybe this was just some peculiar therapeutic strategy of his?