Snow Angel

I lowered myself into one of the cold, wooden chairs of the waiting room. There were two other people here- save my mother- and both kept their heads down, only looking up when the door leading into the counseling room opened, then they would quickly snap their heads back to look onto the floor. My mother was at the receptionist desk, whispering with the woman behind the slide-aside window. It was quiet. There was no talking, no noise but the fan that haunted over us patients and buzzed, still quietly, and the clock that pressed louder than any person here. I slipped back into my seat, brought the hood of my jacket up to sheathe my head and crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to sleep. I found the cool air and lack of noise and light to be comforting, but the persisting tick of the clock demanded that I stay awake. I frowned, but didn't fight to try to sleep. I listened to what she had to say. Her ticks talked. Her beats bellowed and echoed in the silent stillness of the dead room. But eventually she had gotten louder. Her bellows became screams, her little ticks became full-blown spazzes. She cried until one screech racked my ears enough to cause me to rip off my hood and come to a full stand to look at the wall. The ticking had stopped, the clock was frozen. I noticed the startled glares I had gotten from the other two patients. I sat back down. My mom was sitting next to me now, patting my back. Her face seemed overwrought by my heavy breathing. I sat back again and placed my arm over my eyes. "Diana," my mom called over her shoulder. "Diana, your clocks broken again!"

"Dang thing never seems to work nowadays." The woman behind the glass said. She lifted herself from her seat with a grunt and went around to another door opening into the waiting room. "Should really get a new one, but my grandmother worked here and demanded that the clock stay. Poor ol' things been here for years. All she does is tell the wrong time and freeze. " she walked past me and grabbed the clock off of the wall. "Been like that since Nanna passed." She looked down at the old cuckoo clock and wiped some of the dust away with a sleeve. She laughed a little. "Goodness," she paused. "I guess Brain doesn't like broken clocks."

I swallowed in response to my name. She laughed a little again. "Come now, Diana." My mother spoke. "He just doesn't like silence anymore." She muttered as Diana walked back into her office and dug out a small digital clock to put atop her desk. "Are you okay?" she whispered at me. I nodded in acknowledgment and she patted my hand. "Don't be afraid to tell Ms. Davidson anything you need to." She said before turning to her purse in search of her phone.

I waited in more silence for about fifteen minutes until I, along with the other two patients, quickly looked up when we heard the click and creak of the opening door. Ms. Davidson appeared. "Brian?" She said and smiled as I stood up. It was the first time in many years had I been here, at least she remembered me. I held my breath as I entered the door. The room was painted light green and the couch was sitting across from a single chair. I made myself comfortable on the couch and sighed with relief.

The room was just as I had remembered, luckily for me. I don't think I could've handled anymore change this time around. Ms. Davidson sat down in front of me, crossed her legs and grabbed her clipboard. She looked up at me and smiled. "Mr. Harley." She said. "Nice to see you again. Now, what have you been up to lately?" I thought for a bit about where to start or whether or not to tell her anything at all. I looked up at the clock looming over her chair. It struck three.