Theratpy

Ratticus’s brow furrows, his ears go down. But he doesn't respond. “You said in your letter that you’re having issues with impulse control. Do you wanna talk about that?” “...” Ratticus glances at the coffee on the floor. “I should have finished my coffee beforehand. That’s my mistake. Next week, are you able to come an hour later so it doesn't happen again?" He pulls out a pen and paper. Ratticus speaks up. “...What the hell?” “...What?” "Are you being serious right now or are you patronizing me?" Dr. Zo looks up. He gives a skeptical look, then slight hand shrug and eyebrows indicating confusion. "...I'll go with serious." Ratticus stands in a huff, and starts pacing. “Tch. You’re fucking irritating, you know that?” “Wow, tell me how you really feel.” “You think you can solve my problems with words? All that’s buzzing around my head already are words, and thoughts, and garbage.” “Do you wanna sit back down, and you can tell me about it?” Ratticus stops pacing. He looks at Dr. Zo with an almost hopeful look. “Am I making you nervous?” “Do I have a reason to be?” “...” Ratticus glances down at the necktie now laid out on the table. “Screw this. I’m leaving.” “I'm not going to make you stay here." Ratticus hesitates on the door handle. “But, it seems like, whatever you’re thinking about, you feel like you need to get away from me.” Ratticus is frozen at the door. “I can help you sort through all the thoughts, and garbage, and be comfortable having them and not acting on them. Then we can make a plan on eventually getting rid of them. But only if you give me a chance, and give yourself a chance.” Ratticus hesitates, then opens the door, starting to head out. “Will I see you next week?” “Yeah.” “You’re sure you don’t want to continue this session?” “I’m about three seconds from strangling you with your necktie, so no. See you next week.” Ratticus slams the door on the way out.