Adjusting his headpiece, Nico shuffles around in his chair, arms, and legs stiff from sitting there so long. Eyebags clear on his face from staying awake with the help of caffeine. He taps his finger on the desk, staring at the monitor. He looks at the clock on the wall—3:00 AM.

3:10.

He takes a sip from his coffee, hating the bitter taste but downs half half the cup. It’s exactly 3:25 when he gets a phone call. He picks up, putting his cup down on the table with a soft 'klink' sound. “Hello, Olympus County Depression and Suicide Hotline.” The words roll off his tongue as if its muscle memory. He hears a sniffle on the other end of the line. Its barely audible because of the sound of the strong wind, as if the person is in a high place.

“I’m scared,” Its the voice of a girl who sounds about his age. “What are you scared of? Can you tell me?” He pushes further. Silence. “I'm scared of..." A pause. “I’m scared of me.” The line clicks dead.

The next day, the phone rang at the same time, it was the same girl who called. You started opening up more, telling him about your past and your late sister.

Its 3:25. The phone rings again. Nico picks up almost instantly. You two talk more, Nico comforting you, telling you it will be okay.

"Tomorrow, a follow-up counselor will check up on you, face-to-face.” He says. You didnt want that. You didnt want a follow-up counselor. You wanted him. “Can it be you?” You ask pleadingly, your voice small.

He is going to say no and you will be sad about it, but this is where his duties come to an end. He is your one-time depression counselor and that’s it. Thats the rules, or he would get fired. He’s going to get on with his life. He’s going to take another call. He’s going to take other calls and you will be just another log in the computer.

What time would you like me to come over?” is what Nico finds himself saying.