At the Therapist

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Tell me what you see.”

She lay on the couch in the office and forced her eyes to close.

“You’re holding your breath,” he said. “It’s important that you relax. Go ahead and exhale through your mouth, then take a slow breath in through your nose.”

She obeyed as best she could. “I don’t want to be here,” she said.

“Where?” he asked. “In my office? Or where your mind is taking you.”

“I’m at the park by the fountain,” she replied.

“What kind of day is it?” he asked.

“It’s a perfect day,” she said, with a hint of a smile. “The sun is out, but it’s not too hot. There are people out, but not too many.”

“How could there be too many people?” he asked.

“Sometimes the tourists take over. These are all locals. I know them.”

“Can you tell me who’s there?”

She paused, as if scanning the scene. “John is at the fountain. Old Mitchell is on the bench with Eliza.”

“Are you forgetting the bocce players?” he prodded.

“I don’t want to look at them,” she said.

Silence settled over the room.

Finally, he said, “Keep breathing. You’re safe here.”

Obediently, she exhaled again. Her eyes were closed and she seemed relaxed, but then he watched both hands form fists. She brought them together over her abdomen.

“What’s happening now?” he asked.

Her whole body tensed.

“BAM!,” she shouted.

Her eyes flew open.

“I shot him,” she said.

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This is my contribution to The Unicorn Challenge. It’s an easy challenge (hahaha) — write no more than 250 words and base them on the photo.