The engine hummed like a lullaby, but my nerves remained on edge as I navigated the bustling city streets. The appointment with Dr. Morrison was only fifteen minutes away, and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Pulling into the parking lot, I exhaled a shaky breath and ran a hand through my hair, attempting to tame each strand after spending good deal tugging at them. Therapy was meant to help, they said. It was a safe haven to untangle the knots of the mind, yet the prospect of revealing the labyrinth of my thoughts to a stranger made my palms clammy.
I stepped into the therapist's office, my apprehension probably visible. The receptionist greeted me with a warm smile that failed to ease the turmoil in my chest. I fumbled with the clasp of my purse, suddenly feeling conspicuo
