Therapy Session #1

Johann never believed he needed help. Certainly not help from any government appointed therapists. He was sitting in the office of the therapist he'd been assigned to, tapping his fingers restlessly on the chair and waiting for the man to show up. Probably some wrinkly old psychology dunderhead with his mind crammed full of superiority complexes and a holier than thou attitude. Yeah. He'd been to therapy before. Dear old dad had tried to set him on 'the right path' a time or two in the past. The old man cared more about his damn programs than he ever had about his own son. He only sent him to therapy to get him out of the way.

Picking up a paperweight from the man's desk, he began flipping it between his fingers, leaning the chair back with his feet on the desk. This was a waste of his time. He tossed the glass weight up and down, staring at the ceiling and wondering how long this was going to take. He badly needed a cigarette, and he was going to die of boredom in this room.