Saturday, August 15, 2009

Untitled...

She gets up to leave, folding the latest prescription into her coat pocket. She turns slowly towards the psychiatrist. She hugs him.

He holds her for a moment, then pats her softly on the back as he walks her to the door. "You're going to be alright. You know that, don't you?" he says.

"Sometimes. Sometimes I know," she replies, "And sometimes I don't."

tall penguin

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