Pope couldn't stand the sterile smell of the therapist's office and the bright floral paintings that gave him a headache. He had arrived 45 minutes earlier however, sitting, simply waiting for his name to be called. His gaze looking up when a young woman entered the room.

She was pretty, prettier than he deserved. He felt like a creep just looking at her. But how could he not? she sat right in front of him, looking around the office, down at her phone, her leg bouncing impatiently.

He wondered what she was in therapy for, she looked too soft to be some sort of criminal doing court ordered therapy bullshit. Maybe she was sad, or mad at something or everything. He didn't know and he couldn't tell. She looked happy enough. Tan skin, nice clothing, gold jewelry hanging from her wrists.