Ethan
A cold draft blew in from the open window behind me, and the sounds of traffic and street hustle and bustle sounded distant. I'd always wanted to get away from it all, but sitting uncomfortably in a therapist's office was not exactly my idea of tranquility if you catch my drift.
I watched as her fragile hands wrote down every word I said, and wondered how she'd landed here. The incessant tick-tock-tick-tock of the antique clock that hung on a blank, white wall rang through the room, harmonizing with the sound of a scribbling pen.
"So, that's your only fear?" Mrs. Smith asked, a huge therapist smile plastered on her porcelain white face. I nodded rather hesitantly and she raised a brow. The silence was killing me. I wanted out.
"You sure? You can trust me, Ethan."
I nodded...again.
She sighed. "Look. I know you don't want to be here, but please, Ethan, I just want to help you. I'm here for you and you can tell me anything. It's all for your own good, Okay?"
More dazed nodding.
She glanced at her watch. It dangled slightly on her dainty wrist. I swear, I could blow her away if I sneezed. "Well, our time's up. Have a great day, and don't forget what I told you-"
"I'm too blessed to be stressed. Yeah, I know." I cut off. Cheesy.
I walked out of the hellhole and immediately exhaled a breath I didn't even know I was holding. I walked down the hall, passing a few random people who all looked fake and trained. Typical shrinks.
I found myself staring blankly at the walls, which were covered in posters of all kinds, each with some words of (apparently) encouragement.
'The discontent and frustration you feel is entirely your own creation.' One read.
'You're only defeated if you believe you're defeated.' Read another.
It sounded like stuff a twelve-year-old kid would write after listening to a Twenty One Pilots song for the first time and believes they're woke.
I pushed the door open, a cool breeze meeting my skin. I regretted not carrying a jacket or something, but the cold never bothered me anyway (no Frozen quotes intended).
There was the occasional passing car.
The occasional brushing shoulders with someone.
And even the occasional sneeze that sounded like it came from across the city. Yup. New York had it all.
I pulled my beanie a bit lower, and stuck some earbuds into my ears, searching for an escape route from the busy world I lived in. Avicii, Fall Out Boy, The Neighborhood, The Weeknd.... and soon, I drifted off into a trance.
I was so absorbed In my own thoughts that I almost didn't notice a somewhat-short girl rushing towards me. The collision had me startled, and I looked down, only to see her sprawled out on the cold ground. Oops.
"Oh, God. I'm so sorry." I said, offering her my hand. She gladly took it. It's better than being rejected. I thought.
Her almond-brown hair was a mess, and her lips formed a perfectly straight line as she stood up. She looked hungover to be honest. "I-it's Okay..." She said, and hurried along.
I shrugged as I watched her continue on. I placed the earbuds back in my ears and took a step. That was when I heard a crunch.
I looked down and saw a pair of glasses shattered beneath my feet. Double oops.
Well, I just hoped she wasn't legally blind.
'