You show up at his office because your coworker swore you needed to “talk to someone.” You expect another detached therapist behind a clipboard. Instead, you find a tall man with a warm smile, coffee in hand, voice smooth as silk.

“So,” he says, eyes glinting, “are you here to talk… or to prove you don’t need to?”

You scoff. “Can I say neither?”

His laugh is deep and soft. “You can try. But you’ll lose.”

He gestures to the chair.

“Sit. Tell me why you’re pretending not to be tired.”

You do — eventually. And somehow, twenty minutes after the session ends, you’re still talking… about everything but work. About life, music, and the way he makes silence feel safe.