The therapist sat across from me.
I sat across from him.
He watched me.
I watched him.
We were playing a game of cat and mouse.
Of who would speak first.
Of who would give up their memories first.
It would not be him.
It would not be me.
Stalemate. Checkmate. Cornered. Coerced.
He had me and I had him.
'Tell me,' He asks into the silence 'what happened?'
He looks at me and I look at the floor.
'Nothing' I say, 'Nothing at all.'
He watches me.
I watch him.
We will dance like this forever.
I think of dancing and I wonder if he does too.
I will never speak, and he will never ask again.
