"Come on in," the therapist welcomes me with open arms, "I'm so happy that you finally took the big step to become my patient."
Whether her happiness is a result of the money my insurance company wired to her account or if it is because she truly cares for me, I have no idea.
"Thank you."
"You can have your seat."
She watches me with intense curiosity as I go over to the couch to sit down.
"Why did you choose the left side of the couch instead of the right side?" she asks, bringing out some notebook and pen.
I blink back at her confusingly, "Because it's the side nearest to me. Isn't this where I am supposed to sit?"
"You can sit anywhere you like."
"Okay…" I mutter, shifting a little to the center.
"I am simply psycho-analyzing you."
I frown back at her because I don't understand her. How does where I am sitting concern what is going on in my head?
"Let's talk about your life in general, Ms Sarah."
