Three years, it had been, and Tom was still attending sessions with this bloody therapist.
No one seemed to understand, but this cursed woman and somehow, she made him feel a little bit better each time. That's what therapists are supposed to do anyway, aren't they?
He sighed softly to himself and knocked politely on the door, straightening his jacket as she opened it.
"Hello, come in." an elderly woman said with a kind smile, gesturing him to enter. Tom returned her smile, albeit his mental frustration, and the heels of his expensive shoes clicked on the wooden floor as she lead him to the spot where there confidential meeting were conducted.
The leather-faced female sat into a teal, grand chair across from Tom, and he did the same, crossing his legs like a female. He had that habit.
"Now, Tom. I've been meaning to ask you something." she started slowly, and Tom nodded. "Ask away."
"sᴏ, ᴛᴏᴍ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʀɪxɪᴇ?"
"ɪ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ʜᴇʀ sʜᴏᴘʟɪғᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴀɴᴀɴᴀs."