" What do you want me to write ? " her voice is almost a whisper, but he senses the controlled aggression .
He laughs a bit and pats her hand. "Anything you like, you want, your happy memories, anything you remember.." He gives her a kindly smile, but she cuts him , her voice now rising a bit ."Is this your patronising best? " she glares at him fixing her eyes right into his.
He coughs and turns his head away and tries to smile again, but she retorts as if reading his mind, " Scared arent you, that I might.." He takes a deep breath. The tension between them passes in a moment that can be felt only in the rhythmic beating of the hearts .
"What do you want me to write ?" Her voice becomes a whisper again and she covers her face with her hands.." My most vulnerable moments, my angry days, my depressed thoughts, my violent moods, my lonely pain,my weakest actions...you think I deserve all this ?"she looks almost pleadingly at him, looking for a bit of sympathy.
"No, he replies a bit coldly, rather detached.." Your life is not unique..dont come here looking for pity , now write..
She walks away a few minutes later with the blank paper in hand as he wipes the sweat off his brow, and presses the bell. Another crazy day , thought the psychiatrist as the next patient walks in .