Princeless (a)

“Come in, come in dear,” Doctor William beckons, noticing the reservation on the young patient’s face.  She steps into the office, a quivering girl of indecipherable age but clearly in the summer of her beauty.  A deep blue evening gown encompass her thin form, a silver tiara full of rubies and amethysts encircles her brow, and clutched tightly to her chest in both hands is a single white lily.  Her eyes dart around the room, looking far more like a library than an office like she expected.  Nervously she is led to the familiar sight of a leather lounge chair and psychiatrist’s couch, as the doctor sits down on the former and she the latter.

“Now then, now then, as this is our first session, I’d like to start at the beginning,” the doctor instructs, already making notes on his secretive clipboard.

The girl shakes her head, staring into the petals of the flower with worry in her eyes.  “…I don’t want to.”

He raises an eyebrow.  “Mmm?  And why is that, dear?” he asks calmly, no stranger to the unexpected in these counciling sessions.

“Because I…  Because, because the beginning already makes sense.  I don’t have a problem with the beginning; I have a problem with NOW.”

He nods as his eyes switch frequently between her and his notes.  “Now that says something, doesn’t it?  Wouldn’t you say the reason you have a problem with ‘now’ is because you DIDN’T have a problem with ‘before now’, hmm?”

“I, I guess so?”  Her eyes drift to the window and the sky outside; dark clouds oppress the sky, mirroring her soul.

“That is why I like to start at the beginning.”


{This will be going somewhere in the near future.  The near future is also where I will talk more about it in these braces.}


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