My new shrink is old. I’ve already been through a couple since I moved here. I move a lot. I know what I want.

This one wears nice jewelry with her nails always polished. She probably has a shrink herself. One of my best friends is a shrink. She lives far away. Sometimes she tells me of her clients.

It’s all about the intake. I talk about my history. My insurance only covers some things.

The last shrink was a man who just nodded. He used to work in a prison. He was fat. He wasn’t in practice for as long as me. I didn’t want to teach him.

The one before him told me about her kids. I didn’t care about her kids. Well, maybe I did, but it’s not why I saw her.

This one asks me questions. She asks about my father. She writes things down in longhand. I imagine it loopy. Her hands are bare. I imagine her going home to some nice boyfriend, husband maybe. Lover. Grandkids! Or maybe she goes home to her own self, where she cooks something steamy and goes to bed early.

It always takes me a while to get there.

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