Chapter 2 - Therapy Session

Laughter. The sound of someone who is dying.

Mindy is sitting across from her therapist. She is trying to stop her laughter before it gets worse. She can't.

She gently grips on her neck, coughing a little. The laughter still continues. Mindy squints her eyes, starting to feel tears coming into them. She sniffs, the laughter slowly calming down.

"Is it just me, or is it getting crazier out there?" Mindy looks up at her therapist.

"It is certainly tense. People are losing their jobs." The therapist tells her. "These are tough times, Mindy." He pauses. "How are you doing? Have you kept up with your journal?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great, can I see it?"

She reaches into the inner pocket of her black jacket. "I've been using it as a journal." She hands him the notebook. "Also, as a joke diary. Funny thoughts or observations."

He starts to flip through the pages.

"I think I told you that I am pursuing a career in stand up comedy."

"You didn't tell me that."

Mindy looks back up at him. "I think I did."

The therapist stops and reads out a line from one of the pages. "I just hope my death makes more sense than my life." He places the book down, closing it. He looks into her eyes.

Mindy smiles, giggling softly at what was said.

"How's the medication helping you?" he asked.

"I would like to increase my medication," Mindy tells him.

The therapist takes out a piece of pale yellow paper. Looking down at it, he tells her, "Mindy, you are on seven different medications. Are they helping you in any way?"

"I think I felt better when I was in the asylum."

The therapist looks at her. "Can you answer my question?"

Mindy nods. "I don't want to feel so bad anymore. That's my answer."

Mindy walks down a sidewalk. It's now evening. She is holding a white bag in her left hand.

She looks up, seeing the stone staircase that she has gotten used to by now. She walks up it, head hung low.

She yawns as she goes to a building.

As she enters the building, she unlocks a metal bar door. She walks over to the metal boxes that were lined up almost like cabinets.

She unlocks one, finding nothing. She closes it, locking it.

The octoling walks into an elevator, looking at the floor. She presses a button, waiting for it to close.

"Wait!" A male voice is heard. Mindy puts her foot between the opening and the elevator door.

"Thank you."

Mindy looks up at him. He has a bag in his hands. She also noticed that he was an inkling. He pressed a button, and the elevator door closed.

The elevator starts to move up, but then it stops with a thud. The inkling looks over at Mindy.

"This building is so awful, isn't it?"

Mindy looks at him. She doesn't say anything.

The inkling then finger guns his head, then makes a sound like it shot him in the head.

Mindy smirks.

They both walk out of the elevator. One goes left, and the other goes right.

"Hey," Mindy spoke, turning to look at the squid.

He turns and stops in his tracks.

She does the same thing he did, just with some dramatic take on it.

The inkling smiles at her, then continues walking.

Mindy sighs, walking down the hall towards her apartment door.

She sits on her couch, staring up at the ceiling. She stretches, then fixes her black tank top.

Her body is awfully skinny. Her ribs start to show their shape through her middle.

I need to start eating, she thought, taking out a cigarette. She lights the cigarette, then starts to take it in. She puffs out smoke from her lips.

Mindy walks into the small kitchen, looking through the white bag containing her medication. With the cigarette in her mouth, she takes out each one of the pill bottles. She places two of them down to puff out the smoke.

She flicks the cigarette into the small trash bin in the kitchen. She takes three out of the rest of pill bottles and goes into the bathroom.

After the medicine was put away, Mindy went into the bedroom and plopped herself onto the bed. She groans, turning to her side. She slowly started to fall asleep.

I don't want to go back to work.