The Pacifist

Business Card

Joseph

Joseph Maxwell left without saying anything else. He preferred fewer words. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he continued his walk along the canal and questioned his motive for giving the young woman his card. She was certainly the type he helped; people who were in tune with the world around them but unable to comprehend the cues and information they picked up on. But... she was also another type of person; one that he had decided a long time ago to keep his distance from.

He spared a glance over his shoulder and found her still standing on the footbridge, looking down at something in her hands. There was no doubt in his mind that she would contact him. They always did. Pushing the worry of whether or not he should have approached her to the back of his mind, Joseph chose to focus on the feel of the sun's warm rays on his face. He noted how it hit his cheekbones first, warming them slightly before being instantly cooled by the fall wind. He took a deep breath as his grounding technique brought him back into the 'now.'

His wellness studio wasn't too far and he returned to the small space that consisted of a waiting area, a counseling room, and a bamboo floored studio that was used for light yoga and meditation. He went to the studio and sat in the middle of it, facing the wall to wall mirrors. Something about the girl from the canal awakened a part of him that he had desperately tried to mute, but like an addict getting a whiff of his choice drug for the first time in years, he couldn't help himself. He had to find out if the potential high was a good as its promise.

With closed eyes, he recalled all the reasons he had to abstain: to maintain his peace, to maintain control, to cause less harm and to reduce it, and to be a source of positive energy. He repeated those reasons but her face... her delicate neck and large, round eyes distracted him. He grunted with frustration, snapping his eyes open and confronted his reflection. When positive reinforcement didn't work, he defaulted to the next surefire thing that would keep him in line: his self-hate. Joseph tried not to relay on it too much as it went against everything he taught his clients and integrity was an iron-clad value of his. Hypocrisy threatened his integrity but in that moment, desperation and sheer necessity over-ruled his need to live by the words he preached.

He regarded his reflection. He stared it down with pure, unadulterated hatred. It slowed his pulse and the self-inflicted emotional beating soothed his nerves. With a deep breath, he pushed the woman's face from his mind and regained his peace, or rather, what he considered it to be.

The doorbell that alerted him to someone entering his business went off, pulling him out of his thoughts. Checking the time, he saw that it must be his one o'clock appointment. He looked himself in the eye through the mirror once more. "You're a pacifist. You are past all of that," he said sternly to his reflection, then went to great his client.