His office is nestled in the middle of a tree-lined street just on the outskirts of downtown. Pushing my way through the huge glass doors, I make my way slowly to his darkly ornate office. Leather chairs and dark bookcases filled with dark books assault my senses just as much as the smell of stale coffee, and I repress the urge to gag.
His voice is soothing, and his peppered beard welcomes me with thoughts of Santa Clause and silver-wrapped presents. He directs me to lie back in the recliner and close my eyes, and I find myself descending that lonely elevator, his voice my only guide.
I expect to disappear.
“Who do you see?” He asks.
It’s my best friend Laurel, but I can’t say that because I’m sure that’s not what he wants. Is it?
“Just relax and tell me the first name that comes into your head.”
It’s still Laurel. Why can’t I think of anyone else? Do I have to say something? Will I get into trouble if I don’t? Maybe if I say her name, this will be over.
When I open my eyes, he smiles and gently pats my shoulder. “Great work. I’ll see you next week.”
His silky voice whispers its way across the guilt and shame clinging to me as I walk out of the office and shut the door.
The rules for Sunday Photo Fiction are to create a story/poem or something using around 200 words with the photo as a guide, although it doesn’t have to be center stage.
Sometimes writing about things that have happened in my life helps me come to terms with them. While I was reading today, I remembered a dark time in my life and was inspired (or forced depending on how you look at your own muse) to put it in story form when I saw the picture for today’s prompt. It’s 228 words.
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