I had already counted every book on the shelf twice; ninety-two in total. Psychology texts, of course. All the usual suspects. Jung, Freud, Bessel van der Kolk. Trauma, addiction, coping mechanisms. Neatly arranged, almost obsessively so. The kind of detail meant to reassure a patient, to whisper, you’re safe here. It made me feel nothing.The clock above the door ticked too loudly. I wondered if he left it that way intentionally. Some therapists love subtle psychological tension. Micro irritants. See what you do with discomfort. I could play along.

"Let’s see how long you last."