"Caspar, I asked you a question." Counseler Beatrice yapped.
"I told you that's not my name." I reminded him, staring at the snowfall outside.
"No, Caspar, Cas is not your real name." That man thinks he knows everything.
"Listen, Beatle," I didn't have to use my pereffrial vision to know that he rolled his eyes just now.
"Play my little name game for a while longer, Please?" I looked at him with sincerity. It meant something to me. It meant a lot to me.
"Whatever pleases you. Now, son. You're here for lying." He tapped his pencil impatiently.
"Sure." I glanced at him and smiled.
He scribbled onto his notepad, nothing new with that. The sound of graphite points impacting with blank sheets was driven into my head from all of these months.
"I notice that your words don't match up with your... facial expressions? Mood?" He had that smug, know-it-all look on again.
"You know what that's a symptom of?" He huffed and shuffled some papers.
"Oh would you look at that our session just ran past the time." I picked up my bag and snatched for the door knob.
"Don't lie Caspar. Mr.Gulligan wants to get to the core of your problem. I think I've found out what may be causing your... constant compulsive lying." He reached for my arm.
"All due respect Mr.Beatle man, but your PhD doesn't mean shit to me. There's nothing I need of you." I left his hold and closed his door.
get served beatle.
YOU ARE READING
Cathartic
General Fictionca·thar·tic kəˈTHärdik/ adjective providing psychological relief through the open expression of strong emotions; causing catharsis. Cas likes to lie... no actually, Cas loves to lie. Just to keep it interesting, that's what he tells his counseler Mr...
