Doctor Melina Aeri was sitting on the same spot, her clothes revealing and her pose suggestive and seductive as she scribbled on her notebook.

Arthur, who went out of his way to call her back, was no longer showing reluctance or hesitation. However, he did not start voicing his unfiltered thought because that was never his intention. He did not yearn for a one-sided conversation where she would listen to his troubles or inner thoughts, instead, he wanted for a conversation or perhaps even a civilized argument between two responsible adults.

“I guess I struck a cord last time, yes?”

She chuckled and winked at him, but he just shook his head, the solemn look ever-present on his face.

“I found myself benefitting from a different shift in perspective. I wouldn’t call this ‘treatment’, though.”

“We can call it whatever you want. Let us digress. I heard from Christopher that you’ve been working harder than usual… is there any reason for that?”

“I already told you; It helps me cope with the vicissitudes.”

“That might alleviate the stress, but it won’t last long, Arthur. If all of your anxieties are being 'channeled' into your work then if work ever fails… you will have no backup and you’re just going to crash.”

“I wouldn’t call them anxieties.”

“That doesn’t change what they are. Your adamant denial might be part of the reason behind all of this.”

She paused for a couple of seconds and looked at a crude plastic watch he would constantly look at or fiddle with.

“What’s with the watch? Is it a memento of the past or a gift from someone?”

Seeing his expression change ever-so-slightly, Melina sighed and added.

“Christopher told me that you hate talking about the past, but, more often than not, it’s the traumas that give birth to this.”

Arthur scoffed at her words and let go of the watch, his eyes unconsciously averted to the side.

“The past shaped me but, ultimately, it’s inconsequential. I have suffered no more than any person in my position. Still, if you want to talk about mine, I won’t mind.”

“Good.”

She put her notebook on the table and, as was her wont, poured herself wine. She didn’t behave like a Therapist and the mix of nonchalance and seriousness in her subtle motions were part of the charm, part of Arthur’s deliberate compliance.

“It’s common knowledge that you and Christopher were the only survivors from the massacre in White Wedge Village. How about you recount to me the events of that night? Of course, only if it doesn’t bother you.”

“I don’t doubt that someone as resourceful as you are, Doctor Melina, can acquire my recorded witness statement.” With narrowed eyes, he intently stared her, incapable of unmasking her inscrutable expression,

“You wouldn’t have asked me that if you didn’t already see and research all of it. The White Wedge Massacre was nothing but a tragic event, soon forgotten about by the public. Yes, it has affected me and Chris both, but we got over it, like with so many other tragedies.”

“I want to hear your personal experience, Arthur. The altered version released by the media is irrelevant to me.”

“I’m sorry to say that my memory is fuzzy, considering it was over 20 years ago. I just remember seeing something… strange and incomprehensible. A figment of my imagination, born out of fear, innocence, and ignorance, perhaps.”

“Why would you think it was your imagination?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Hearing this, Arthur chuckled and retorted on the spot, “If I told you I saw a monster, you would just gloss over it or blame it on the disturbed mind of an ignorant child. You’d think I’m crazy… disillusioned.”

His voice got a bit louder, therefore, Melina opted to change the subject.

“Fine. Let’s switch to something else… your secretary, for example.”

“What about her?”

“Again, I heard she was a strong influence. A diligent girl who’s been there with you ever since you and Christopher founded the company. Did this ‘emptiness’ you describe start before or after her unfortunate death?”

“You are knocking on the wrong door again, Doctor. I assure you that, fragile as I might seem to you, I’m not one to get stuck in the past. I look to the future, I always try to look at things from a positive perspective. To see the good rather than the ugly, as many preachers like to say.”

“You say that yet you keep visiting her grave every year. Isn’t that contradictory?”

“Contradictory? Visiting a dear friend’s grave every year is a basic display of remembrance. I don’t linger my thoughts on the past, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I forget about it.”

“I see it differently, Arthur.”

Melina emptied her glass of wine and stood up, the loud tapping of her heels echoing through the suite as she paced around.

“You are lost and confused. Lonely, even. Would it be pretentious of me to assume your life, as it stands now, has literally no destination.”

Seemingly conflicted and perplexed with her words, Arthur looked down and mumbled to himself for a bit. Eventually, he returned his gaze to the woman,

“Does having a destination really matter? Many people walk forward and persevere just for the sake of it, fully knowing that their efforts would lead to nothing. They think, or more accurately, they hope there will be light at the end of the tunnel.”

Melina chuckled and went to sit next to him, leaning closer and touching a small, barely noticeable scar under his watch.

“‘Simply by the act of moving forward, are we implying a journey such that a destination is inevitably conjured into being via the manifestation of the nature of life itself?’”

Taken aback by her nonsensical talk, Arthur creased his brows and leaned to the back, disliking having her so close to him.

“It’s a quote, by the way. One that can be perceived from different angles.”

“I am listening, Doctor.”

The Therapist pushed back her long hair and crossed her legs again, trying to get a reaction from his, but his stony expression did not change.

“You say you’re lost and see absolutely no value in your life, yet you are against suicide, which-some think- is a way of release. You are looking for a solution but you seem convinced that it doesn’t exist, thus trapping yourself in a loop. What do you really want, Arthur?”

“...”

Hearing only silence, Melina smiled at him and continued, “You have money and power and you must have seen all the wonders the world has to offer. What then, does a man do when the initial satisfaction and bliss are gone? Seek solace in another self-formulated objective? I say he embarks on a new journey of discovery and learning. Try to seek the world again while shedding his preconceptions and prejudices.”

“You think I haven’t thought of that? A vacation to places I’ve already seen would be meaningless. The intrigue and fascination are non-existent and cannot be re-experienced. I’ve always debated about that.”

“Debated with whom? Yourself? You can’t talk yourself out of loneliness, it just doesn’t work that way. You can’t be the one writing the questions and the answers, then there’s no movement, no circulation!”

“So that’s your final diagnosis, Doctor? That it was all a product of loneliness?”

“Diagnosis?” She waved her hand and laughed, “Not at all. It is merely my opinion after observing you for a bit. You lack the ‘voice’ that should tell you to stop, that particular mechanism of defense against yourself. Without it, you will just spiral.”

“I’m not following you.”

Instead of explaining, she stood up and went to her purse, taking out a stack of papers. Arthur recognized them with just one glance, but he offered no remark.

“These ones are from two years ago, and these are fairly recent.”

She put two stacks on the glass table, opening a random letter from the old ones.

“Christopher became concerned with your wellbeing after seeing those letters; Written by yourself, and directed to yourself. Sometimes, you would even send responses. Is that correct?”

“It wasn’t hurting anyone, I see no reason to bring that up. Or are you thinking those are signs of a mental illness? Just because I like doing that.”

“Before even meeting you, I’ve read every single one of those. I expected complicated and personal stuff, but it wasn’t the case. They were simple and pretty straightforward… basic questions that could be answered by anyone. I wouldn’t categorize you as socially inept, Arthur, which is why I couldn’t make sense of these letters. I was unable to come up with a logical interpretation.”

“Must there always be an objectively right reason for every action someone makes, Doctor? Can it not be mere happenstance or an unreasonable whim?”

“You are misunderstanding me. I’m not judging your motive, merely questioning it. I want to know what drove you to, quite literally, talk to yourself.”

Arthur stretched his hand and unfolded one of the letters, skimming through it while letting out a heavy sigh.

“It just helps me. There is an inexplicable sense of comfort when someone understands you, even if that someone is yourself.”

“But you stopped, Arthur. Does that mean you no longer understand yourself?”

“You could it put that way, Doctor. You definitely could put it that way…”