Hot Summer Afternoon

It was the small crease in her dress that drew my eye. It crumpled slightly in the middle as she leaned her head on her arm. A small sunflower flower pattern covered the dress made a radiate yellow hue that shined brightly whenever the sun would hit it.

Underneath peaked a pure white tank top that stuck to her skin outlining its shape. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and her face glistened from the beads of sweat that have started to form on that hot summers day.  She might have been in the shade but you can tell she was warm by the way she was breathing.

Her eyes were illuminated by the screen she held, like a portable dopamine dump, they seemed transfixed on the screen as her whole face had a serious but relaxed look to it.  Her hands flicked, poked, and prodded the screen but her face never changed and her eyes never moved.

A moment seemed like an eternity on that hot summer afternoon.

On The Open Shore

I had a dream recently.

I was walking shoeless on a beach.  Each step I took, I felt the cold sand envelop my toes. The sand was soft and unbroken, each time I stepped I shattered the tension of the surface, cracking the world around it. There was though a pleasant wind that blew. The wind danced around and moved through me as if it were as familiar as a memory.

I look to see where I was, but the horizon filled white with fog; I could not see far enough to know. Looking about, all there was were the valleys of displaced sand from the path I already took.  I could not go back, but I did not know where else to go.
So I trudged slowly listening to the sound of the waves and the wind.  I approached the sea, but the wind became biting and unrelenting. Pelting sand at me, with every strike feeling like leather cracking across the skin. The flurry made seeing more difficult; I covered my face for protection, how was it I was to find my way? I listened to the waves to guide me in this storm.

I kept walking, and the wind kept blowing.  Suddenly my feet felt wet, as the sand became robust and easier to traverse. The wind stops, but so do the waves. I follow the wet sand, hoping to find the sea. I listen and look, but there are no waves and no wind just wet sand beneath my feet. I keep walking until I see a shadow, and I am swallowed whole.

On The Therapist’s Couch

There is it is, the ring again, just when my dream was getting good. I have to turn over now and turn off my alarm, but my body feel heavy and lethargic. It seems early, and as if I haven’t gotten any sleep. My eyes are having trouble staying open as my arm flails about trying to find the source of noise. Five more minutes I tell myself, five more minutes and everything will feel okay, and I’ll be ready for the day.


I’m late, and now I have to rush through my morning routine.. well not morning but get myself ready for the day. Why does everything feel so slow, do I need to get out and go to the appointment? I don’t even really want to go… well I do, and I don’t. It feels kind of stupid, but even if I think it is I am still spending all this time getting ready. Do I think this will make me seem less disorganized? I don’t know, but now I have to go.


Traffic at least wasn’t bad. The building I pulled up doesn’t look all that that unique; I would have driven past it on any other day.
I make my way to the elevator. The third floor; easy enough to push the button. The ride up feels like it;s taking forever, maybe it’s because I’m running late.
I wish the walls along this hallway were more exciting, having more pictures and fewer names on them but what can I do, it’s not my building, so I guess it doesn’t matter.
327 I need to find 327. It’s an unassuming brown door with a couple of names along the side. I open the door and enter slowly.
The waiting room isn’t anything spectacular, but did I expect? An upscale, luxurious lounge?
There is a woman at a computer, probably the receptionist, she looks like she is  deep in thought, I don’t want to bother her.
She’s looking at me now, I should probably say something…
“Hi… I’m Charlie. I think I have an appointment with Dr. Wence.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here. Take a seat until he calls for you.”
Her voice is stern and straightforward.
I mean to say thanks but it just doesn’t really come out when she immediately goes back to what she was doing.


“Charlie,” A simple and direct voice calls out to me.
I stand up immediately, pushing off the soft couch.
“Charlie, Dr. Wence will see you now.”
I walk by the reception desk to catch the small friendly, but fake smile return to a serious and stoic look as receptionist turns back to the computer and continues typing and clicking. I reach a dark brown wooden door and turn the metal knob slowly as the door fails to creak open like I assumed it would. Now I have to knock to get Dr. Wence’s attention. I don’t want to do this; I know I can back out now.
I stand in the doorway indecisively as Dr. Wence looks up from his desk. He rises and comes over to introduce himself with his hand outreached.
“Hello, My name is Dr. Carl Wence, you must be Charlie.”
“Yes, I am.”
His hand is both gentle and stern; I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with him even though it seems those are his intentions.
“Please, take a seat on the couch, I’ll come to join you in a moment.”
The couch looks moderately new with a vivid green color and beautiful green-blue patterned pillows. I sit down; the sofa doesn’t feel worn in yet.
I sit looking around the room at the various things. The books, certificates, and nic-nacks. I wait for a couple of minutes as he puts away the stuff on his desk and retrieves a well-used notepad from one of his drawers. He comes over and sits in the considerably worn chair across from me.


“So how are you feeling today, Charlie?” He says that with a smile as he gets comfortable.

“Okay, I guess.” I don’t feel like starting into this, the whole thing about my emotions even if I am here.

“Well, from what I heard from Alex that you were having a hard time, and that’s why you wanted to schedule an appointment. Could you tell me more about that?”

“uh… um.. I.”  I can’t say it outright; the words keep getting caught before they ever reach my throat

“Don’t worry Charlie; this isn’t a test I want to take a time to get to know you a little better. So maybe we should start with an easier question. What do you do, as in for work?”

“I work forty hours a week at a store.”

‘What kind of store?”

“A clothing store.”

“Do you ever come across anything interesting while working there, I remember back when I worked in retail, there was always one or two crazy customers a week.”

“Mmm… no, it’s pretty normal, people come and go, and sometimes they buy stuff. We get a few people who regularly come in but most of the time it’s months before I see a customer again.” I didn’t want to start into all fo this; I didn’t even want to think about work, especially on my days off.

“Okay, maybe something else then.” He says with a pause. “What would you like to talk about Charlie?”


To Be Continued…