The sound of a clock ticking faintly in the background reached me before I became aware of my surroundings. I sat in a leather chair—one I knew as intimately as I knew myself—and stared at the snowfall through the wide window across the room. The office was dim, illuminated by the gray light filtering through the frosted glass. My breath came slowly, my chest tight as though I had just woken from a dream too vivid to be true.
The file on my lap weighed heavier than it should have, its contents spilling an unspoken tale I wasn't sure I was prepared to read again. I ran my fingers over the cover—a calming ritual I didn't recall consciously adopting—and opened it.
Case no. 42: Alexis mavelle
Diagnosis: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)
Notes: Severe insomnia, recurring nightmares, boundary-testing behavior.
