By David Derey
When they lie down on the couch and open up to me, they have no clue what they’re letting in. Those deep-rooted problems they bring up, I make grow. It’s my drug.
Then she comes.
From the first session, I have a bad feeling. Every angle I play with her, she spins around and thanks me for the perspective. Every evil seed I plant blossoms into beautiful flowers in her mind.
I try my best, but she just won’t break. She keeps booking seven double sessions a week.
Lately, the few times I sleep, my dreams are bleak.
Different, I like it.