The Scribe

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“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Are you?”

“No. Though I suppose most crazy people think they’re sane. So it doesn’t matter what I say.”

There was a pause as the doctor studied the young woman. The listless mouth and relaxed demeanor were belied by the fierce expression in her gold eyes. Barely suppressed anger and… resignation. An odd combination for one so young.

“Why do you assume I will think you’re mentally unstable? You’re a professional woman. Obviously intelligent based on our previous conversation. University educated. Successful in a highly competitive field—”

“They all think I’m crazy, Doctor Asner.” She shifted in her seat, letting her gaze drift out the window to the tree-lined street as a mother with two laughing children passed. A flicker of sadness in her eyes, then nothing again. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“You hear voices?”

“No question mark on the end.”

He blinked and looked up from his pad of paper. “Excuse me?”

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