yeah, so, i've posted on here before, but lost interest? the story was 'sunrises and carcrashes' and it was on a different pen name that i forgot the password and e-mail to.

i might lose interest again, forewarning ;.

anyway, the first chapter is short? i guess because it doesn't look this short on microword. my b, dawg.

--

Chewed nails unconsciously dug into pale palms, shivering in the cold of the too-white waiting room. Eyes full of smoke darted around to each blank face, trying to read empty expressions. One size eight foot tapped a strange beat against the sparkling linoleum floor, occasionally leaving miniature skid marks in it's wake. Ears rung in response to each impersonal announcement made over the crackling intercom. And a growingly agitated mind wondered why the receptionist behind the four foot counter at the front of the room could not use her very own voice to call up each new patient.

Later, chewed nails tapped against a cherry mahogany end table. Fingers danced alongside a strategically placed box of KLEENEX and a sympathetic looking desk lamp. Two size eight feet sat still next too each other atop a freshly vacuumed rug from the twelfth century. Ears struggled to hear each spoken syllable over the muffling humming noise from the aquarium filled with fake coral and miserable fish.

And an annoyed stare focused on a slow clock hung next to a variety of frames encasing a series of degrees and awards and honors photocopied onto official-looking paper and notarized with important looking stamps from the offices of the gods of psychiatry or psychology or some other equally confusing -ology. Such a god sat behind a large desk underneath such frames of authority. A large sweater vest knitted together with horrible patterns of brown and purple and peach lay across a large chest and met around a large belly and spilled over a large waist covered in tweed brown slacks.

"So tell me why you're here," the large man spoke through his large beard from atop his large, overly cushioned chair. Two aggravated eyes rolled to keep a sarcastic tongue bitten back. "Okay, then. Why don't we start somewhere less…sensitive? How old are you?" The large man's large beard asked.

"Seventeen."

"And what do you like to do for fun?" Whiskers ruffled.

"Spontaneously visit shrinks," a witty mouth mumbled through rows of clenched teeth.

"I can't help you if you don't want to be helped," proclaimed the hairy chin.

"Good, because I don't want to be helped." Two feet carried a relieved body through a large cherry oak door and out into a plush hallway, through a set of white doors and into a too-white waiting room, across a sparkling linoleum floor and out onto the hot, black pavement of a parking lot under the too-bright summer sun.

"What are you doing home so early, Spencer?" barked a tall, pinched-face blonde as she stomped her way into the huge, well-lit foyer after hearing the front door slam, signaling her daughter's entrance. She was met with nothing more than a scoff as the young girl brushed by her into the stainless steel kitchen. Two pairs of heels clacked against the spotless floor, one in route to the refrigerator, the other in route to follow the first.

"Excuse me, young lady, your appointment with Dr. Langston doesn't end for another hou--"

"Dr. Langston is nothing more than a walking yarn ball with a degree from some unheard of shit hole in Oklahoma!" exclaimed the drained girl in between gulps of Pellegrino.

The taller blonde through her hands up towards the chandelier ridden ceiling in exasperation. "Dr. Langston is a noted pediatric psychologist. You were supposed to let him diagnose you with something or other so we can get you out of this..this..funk you've been in lately! Ever since you and that slut broke up--"

The slam of a frosted glass door marked the end of the conversation.