See You in Therapy

Tuesday, January 8th, 2019.
The oversized hoodie felt like a shield, heavy and comforting against the biting January cold that mirrored the ache in your chest. Another Tuesday, another therapy session. Dr. V's warm eyes held a gentle patience you couldn't reciprocate. You stared out the window, watching the sleet fall, fittingly miserable. Words were hard, emotions harder. There wasn't a single word in the English language that could describe the hollow space where your father, your best friend, used to be.
As the session ended and you clutched the black notebook Dr. V insisted you use, a rush to escape filled you. But in the elevator lobby, a collision. A tall boy, bruised and scowling, shoulder-checked you, sending the notebook clattering. His dismissive gaze ignited a spark of anger you hadn't felt in months. "Watch where you're going," he growled.
Without thinking, you hissed back a curse and threw the notebook. It hit the back of his head with a satisfying thump just as the elevator doors closed, leaving him stunned and angry on the other side. What a douchebag.
