Short Stories

Land of Confusion

“So,” the man said sitting back in his leather chair. “Just start at the beginning.”

I shifted my weight around on the couch. Why is it that all shrinks have couches? Is it something they get when they become qualified? One certificate and one hard couch, in a disgusting colour. The one I was trying to get comfortable on, and failing, was a delightful pale blue. “Is it just me or is this the most uncomfortable couch in the world?”

“You can change position,” he said pointing at a low-backed chair in the same colour.

I eyed it but the was no way you could sit back. I’d just perch on the front. “No, I’m good.”

He smiled and fell silent. I gave a huge sigh but he only looked at his pad and wrote something. What could he be writing? I haven’t said anything. What if the fact I had mentioned I was uncomfortable said something about me? I watched him until he stopped. He looked at me and he tilted his head. For a moment he looked more like a curious dog than a shrink.

“I don’t fit in,” I said.

“At school?”

“Anywhere.”

“You don’t have any friends?”

“I have friends.”

“Who?”

“Okay, I have people I know,” I said. “But I’m not here about that.”

“So what is wrong?”

“I don’t fit in. I can’t tell if people like me.”

“Why do you want to know?”

I sighed again. “I want to know if they like me or if they are just humoring me.”

“How am I meant to tell you that?”

I swung my legs around and sat on the side of the couch. “You can’t, but they think I am broken or something.”

“They?”

“Them,” I said and nodded in the direction of the door.

Getting up he walked over to the door and threw it open. Outside there was just black. It was deep and went on forever. I stood and got ready to run.

“There is no-one out there,” he said and turned to me with a confused expression.

“There is,” I said.

“I can see no one.”

“But they are there,” I said walking around the couch and putting the piece of furniture between me and the nothing.

“Who?”

I look at the man in grey and whisper, “My fears.”

*      *      *      *

This is from a daily prompt. Go here to see what others have written. This short story is a work of fiction and is not based on any person/s or place.

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