He can never tell if the question
“Should we schedule another time?”
is rhetorical. He assumes it is. For
two years, once a week, he sits on
the couch for an hour, and, for an
hour, he is honest, for an hour,
he explores. He is an auto-paleon-
-tologist, dusting off the sediment
of years, inspecting it, spinning a
narrative out of it. Here: a fight
took place. Here: he wanted to die
For two years, once a week, he
does this for an hour.
And somehow, things feel better.
To MCD
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