Deterioration of Innocence

“Hi Mr. Wellingham, welcome!”, my psychiatrist exclaimed as she lead me into her house. She lead me straight to her office with a dark mahogany desk with windows around the room. There were bookshelves everywhere and books here and there, all about psychology and health. In the middle of the room in front of the desk was three leather sofas and a glass coffee table in front. “Take a seat please,” She instructed, “I’ll be right with you in a moment.” She walked to her desk and started