Untold Truths

"When was the first time?" he asks. You look around the room, confused. You're sitting on a couch of a man who you've never met before. Looking around, you see you're in a home. The walls are decorated with pictures and memorabilia, none of it you're familiar with. Then again, you don't even remember the name of the man staring at you. "My mistake," the man continues. "You're going through it again." You gaze at him, your mind empty. "Please, take a minute," he states. You think to say something, but your lips can't seem to form a word, let alone a coherent sentence. Then, suddenly, you forget how to breathe. You start gasping for air, your brain lacking the necessary information to let you know how to really do anything. The man rushes to your aid, first running to your side, and then sprinting to the sink. He fills up a glass of water. As he pours the content of the glass down your throat, you begin to calm down. You feel safe, and comforted by his presence. And then you start to remember. He's your cognitive therapist, apparently one of the top ones in the state. You are Evan Schilling, apparently a single man with no children, lacking success or any evident goal. Your therapist, Dr. Gates, keeps his eyes locked onto you. Only now do you remember the nights you've spent with Gates drinking and laughing. He's no ordinary therapist, he's your close friend. You check the time, now having fully regained consciousness. It's a quarter past 7. "I'd better get going," you finally say. He looks at you sympathetically. "Of course, but I'd love it if you stayed awhile," Gates replies.