Author's note: This story was inspired by my friend xfilesfanatic, who has the best ideas ever. Enjoy, please!

I carefully set down the phone and let out a stiff sigh. Even Mom could tell something was up now. What as I supposed to tell her? I didn't know what was wrong with me myself.

I guess I sort of did. It's not hard to figure out what happened. Seth had just broken up with me, and he hadn't really given a good enough reason. He told me that "deep within his soul there was a longing for solitude." Not only did I not know what that meant, I kept rewinding that moment and playing it back, wondering if he really was telling the truth.

Had he gotten bored with me? Did he think I was unappreciative of him? Was he feeling "trapped" or something?

That was four weeks ago, and the questions hadn't stopped.

I was angry. Not at him (well, maybe a little bit), but at me.

Now, I sat staring out my glass door into the rain that had been holding out all day. My cat Charlie rubbed against the bottom of my legs and meowed, and I bent over to pick him up.

"Am I going crazy, Chuck?" I asked him.

He did nothing.

Putting him down, I went in to the bathroom, rested my hands on the sink and stared at my reflection.

Why did I keep doing that?

"What's wrong with you, Katie?" I asked myself. "When did you get like this?"

Again, no answer from anyone or anything.

I'm insane, I thought.

And then there was those other words flashing in my mind: Maybe I should go see someone. A psychiatrist, I mean. There had to be plenty in Seattle, after all.

But the more I thought about it, the more it scared me.

Go talk to a stranger. Try to describe what's going on inside me. Watch them take notes on me. Judge my mind. Ask me about my childhood. Poke at my psyche.

I was shy enough without having to go through all of that, thank you!

A few times I had looked through the phone books, searching for a therapist, and once I had even forced myself down to a Dr. Niles Crane's office, but had driven home as soon as I had reached the parking lot.

Staring at myself in the mirror, my blonde hair trickling down my shoulders, I decided that I should get out of the house and walk around in Downtown Seattle. Someone had told me that fresh air was good for depression, and since today was my day off, I hadn't gotten any since yesterday.

I changed my clothes, brushed my hair, and freshened up, then grabbed my umbrella and hoped that it would stop raining soon.

On the car ride over, it did stop, but I took my umbrella anyways when I got out of the car.

For a little while, I forgot what ailed me as I saw different people going about their daily lives. Smiling, laughing, talking. Even I allowed myself to smile a few times.

As I walked by one of the fancier apartment buildings, I happen to come across an older man and his Jack Russell Terrier walking down the sidewalk. I stopped and petted the dog. "I'm more of a cat person myself," I told the man. "But dogs are great, too."

He nodded. "Yeah, you can't go wrong with a dog. Eddie here's one of my best friends."

I smiled at him and walked on, feeling a little bit better.

I'm not sure how long I walked, but when I stopped to rest it was about 1:30 in the afternoon. I plopped down on a bench and watched as people drove down the street, hoping I didn't get splashed.

When I looked to the side, I noticed the large face of a man plastered against the bench. Leaning forward, I looked at the back of it.

The Dr. Frasier Crane Show
KACL 780
2:00 PM-5:00 PM
"I'm Listening"

Once in the car, it was exactly 2:00 PM, so I tuned into KACL 780.

It was a call-in show. People called in with their problems and Dr. Crane the psychiatrist solved them or did his best to solve them.

Once I was in my driveway, I sat listening for I don't know how long, hoping that someone would call in with a problem similar to mine so I wouldn't feel compelled to do it myself.

But no one did, and the time passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was 4:30. If I was going to call in, I'd better do it now.

I ran inside, and with a shaking hand I dialed the number.

What am I doing? I asked myself.

But before I could hang up, a voice caught me on the other line.

"Dr. Frasier Crane Show, what's your problem?" It was Roz, Dr. Crane's producer.

"My name is Katie, and I-I'm sort of…angry with myself..." I said, trying to sound confident but realizing that I sounded nowhere near that.

"Can you be a little bit more specific?" Roz asked.

"My boyfriend broke up with me, and I-"

"Gotcha. Hold please, we should be able to get you on in a minute."

As I waited, the temptation was so great just to hang up. It would be easy, and then I wouldn't have to face the fact that my problem was going to be broadcast to thousands of people…

But just like before, as I was about to hang up I heard a voice.

"Hello Katie, I'm listening."

I froze. Talk, I heard a voice in my head say.

"Hello, Dr. Crane. I just have to warn you…I'm a little shy."

"No need to feel afraid here. Please, relax and tell me what's bothering you."

Maybe Dr. Crane was pretentious and a bit downgrading, but at least he was nice to his callers.

"Alright. Well, four weeks ago my boyfriend broke it off with me."

"Did he give a reason?"

"Yes, he said he wanted solitude or something along those lines. But I just kept asking myself if he was really being honest or if he was just lying to spare my feelings. I thought that maybe I was pushing him away by being clingy or uninteresting. And then…well, I kind of got mad at myself, like it was me that hurt him instead of he being the one who hurt me. That led to depression, so that now it feels like all I ever think about or do is in sadness and anger."

"Did you expect this man to end the relationship?"

"Not really." I bit back tears, though I didn't know why they were there.

"Ah. Essentially, Katie, what you're feeling is normal. Your boyfriend breaks up with you suddenly with a somewhat flimsy excuse, and wonder if ou might be responsible, and I think we've all been there at some time in our lives. However, your wondering has gone a little off the edge, and you've started blaming and even being angry with yourself. Am I getting you correctly here?"

"Yes, yes, perfectly."

"Good. What's inconvenient about what you're feeling is that we can never truly know if the excuse made was true or not. In your case, Katie, my advice to you is to use the phrase my brother and I are quite well versed in: Their loss! Even if it was about you, that would be his opinion, not to be confused with fact. And I'm sure soon, the right man will come along who will have a higher opinion of you then anyone you have ever known."

I didn't know what to say. Thank you? I feel better now? I did feel a thousand times better, but what were the right words to say that?

"Wow!" was the first word out of my mouth, followed by, "Dr. Crane, thank you so much. I…don't know the words to properly thank you with. You've really helped me."

"My pleasure, Katie."

And then there was nothing but the sound of silence echoing through my apartment.

I smiled, and then the joy inside of me overflowed and I let out a squeal.

I went outside onto my balcony and looked at the sky. The sun was out for now. A soft breeze went slowly through my hair and I wondered something.

Was this what freedom felt like?

The End