Vincenzo Moreno

Her room was a brown monochrome. Fairly furnished and with large panel windows. I couldn't stop myself from wondering if every therapist's office was this way. Depressing.

Dr. Yolanda edged close and handed me a cup of coffee.

"I'm going to be honest with you," she said while lowering to her seat. "I'm glad you called."

Her gaze spoke volumes. She expected me to lay my worries bare—my greatest pet peeve. However I had no choice. I wanted none of these anymore: torn away from Rina, waking up miserable, and being in exile.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I stroked my thumb over the handle of...