Courtney sat down in the low reclining chair. This was her second therapy session this month. She had been in therapy for three years, when her parents died.
***
Her parents were "cool." They hosted all of her birthday parties at the local pool and let her have a few friends over for sleepovers. Courtney had never had to imagine a world without them until the draft.
The draft came as a result of the war that broke out between Camaq and Amir, formerly known as Canada and America. All healthy citizens between twenty-one and thirty-five were drafted into the military, regardless of gender. Courtney and her older brother had been left in the care of their grandmother.
Two years after her parents were drafted, they were declared dead as a result of a helicopter crash.
***
Back at the therapist, Courtney was seething. She hated her therapist with a passion, her calm voice, her indifferent personality, it made her want to throw something. Today however, something was different, her therapist didn't come in. She waited a few minutes.
The door clicked, Courtney exhaled, "Back to talking about feelings," she thought.
The therapist didn't walk in, she stayed on the other side of the translucent wall. Suddenly, a head popped through the doorway, it was... unfamiliar.
"Hello! I'm your friendly neighborhood therapist."
