Tree Song

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Bre-

"Do you know why you're here, Nicholas?"

Well, no ... no, I don't, but I don't say that to her, instead I tilt my head and rest it on my hand which is propped up. The chair I'm sitting is rather uncomfortable, causing me to squirm around in an attempt for at least some comfort.

There is none however, I find out in the end.

"You're here because you've not been able to sleep for a few weeks now, correct?"

I notice the woman has blonde hair, almost fake blonde hair if I squint my eyes and look hard enough. But, seeing as I'm obviously the one being questioned here, I shrug my shoulders. "I suppose," I say, sitting up right to crack my back. "Well, technically I've slept, but just for a few hours each night and one during the day."

"Right," she mumbles, looking down at the paperwork resting on her lap. She continues her questioning as she rifles through a few papers, "Have you been having night terrors? It says here that a friend has woken you up twice last week. You were screaming and trembling."

I think for a second, licking my lips in thought. "Well, yes, that's true," I look down at my torn cuticles, "but don't all people have night terrors at least sometime in their lives? My little sister used to have them once a month."

Before she asks the question that I know she's going to ask, I open my mouth, "I kept track." My answer doesn't seem to appease her, so I sigh quietly and prepare for another one.

"How come"?

One eyebrow quirks.

.... Is she yanking my leash? No, well, okay.

"She's my sister," I tell her, rolling back my shoulders, "I was concerned, therefore I kept track of how many times it happened."

"Ah." She looks back down at her folders and makes a popping sound with her lips.

Yeah, that's definitely not attractive and I find myself gritting my teeth.

"Look ... are we done here? I need to get going," I mumble, looking up at her from my torn cuticles. I should really stop picking at them. "I need to feed my ferrets."

For a second, she looks a little put off, as if I took her by the nose and said, "I got your nose!" but her demeanor changes quickly and she stands up from her rather comfortable looking office chair.

"Oh, yes," she says, putting the folders onto her desk before making her way passed me and to the door. "I'll be expecting you next Wednesday, Nicholas." Her smile is tight as she holds the door open for me, and when I just smile at her and nod my head, I walk out of the door and she shuts it loudly.

"Damn woman," I mumble to myself as I walk down the corridor to the lobby.