Failing Fate

I was a little nervous as I sat in the lobby of the therapist's office. I had been seeing my therapist once a week for the past three months, and I still felt like I'd made no progress.

"How are you feeling, Michelle?" my therapist, Dr. Snow, asked me. He had thick glasses and a high voice that always reminded me of a girl. He was dressed in his usual suit and tie. He always looked very professional and well-dressed, but he was still a man. I stared up at him from my chair and sighed heavily.

"I'm fine," I lied. "I don't really feel like talking today."

He nodded silently, but continued to stare at me with his big blue eyes. His head was cocked slightly to the side, making him look kind of like a bird. After several seconds of silence that seemed to last forever, he finally spoke up again. "Well... If you ever want to talk about anything, please feel free to call or email me."

I stood up from the couch and opened my purse to pull out my wallet. "Yeah..." I said softly as I handed him some cash for my session fee. He took it from me and put it in his desk drawer without looking at it or counting it first. We both knew I would pay the same amount whatever I gave him.

"Thanks," he said softly with a nod before standing up and walking around his desk to where I was standing by the office door. "Have a good day."

I smiled thinly at him as we shook hands before leaving the office and closing the door behind me. As soon as I stepped outside into the cold October air, I shivered violently from not only the chill but also from how lonely I suddenly felt without having to sit across from Dr Snow anymore. My therapist had helped me enormously since the beginning of summer by guiding me through all sorts of different therapy methods for dealing with my anxiety disorder, but every night when I got home from work, there were so many unspoken thoughts running through my head that kept me awake for hours after laying down for bedtime.

The next morning came very early for me; I didn't go to bed until nearly midnight after being exhaustingly awake all evening long while sitting in my apartment alone, listening to the whispers of my own mind. By the time I arrived at work 10 minutes late, everyone else was already getting set up for another day of greeting customers through the drive-thru window, taking their orders inside at one of our three registers, or fixing orders in our kitchen on any one of nine ovens or frying dishes on our fryers.

The place was packed as usual; there were cars lined up all along our small parking lot and spilling out into the street beyond that, causing traffic down Main Street to be almost non-existent during rush hour at 7:00 AM every morning Monday through Friday. I couldn't help but think about how those traffic-clogged mornings actually brought good business for us at the restaurant.

Right on cue, two customers walked up to the counter together and ordered two dozen donuts each before walking over to pick up their order near one end of the counter where we kept our donut trays waiting for customers who ordered them ahead of time. As the customers were intently scanning and deciding which donut they would indulge in next, suddenly -

"No!" she shouted loudly in front of everyone gathered around her. The woman unexpectedly threw her arms forward in an attempt to catch her tray before it fell onto the floor. Thanks to her quick reflexes, the tray landed safely without breaking apart. She then carefully regained her balance while still maintaining the integrity of her tray and its contents, looking somewhat embarrassed but relieved that she had prevented a worse outcome.

As she left work after finishing her shift that afternoon (still thinking only about what happened earlier that morning), she walked out of the restaurant and across the parking lot towards home. She wondered if she would get a call or text message ordering food for delivery tonight, anticipating the prospect of not having to cook a meal herself amidst her thoughts about reheating leftovers or preparing various frozen meals. The anxieties of her day and the repetition of small tasks in her daily routine fueled a sense of loneliness and disconnection from others, making her long for meaningful connections as life continued around her.