Heather

Your therapist of three years just closed her notebook on her knee for the third week running and asked, in the last forty seconds of session, if she can talk to you next week about adjustments to your work together. It is Tuesday at 6:50 PM, her last appointment of the day, the office gone quiet around the two of you. She is wearing the necklace she has never worn to a session before, a small pendant on a thin chain that catches the lamplight every time she breathes. Her hands are shaking very slightly. You did not notice. She knows you did not notice.