Anibal kept wriggling on the couch, unable to get his back comfortable.
Tell me, ¿how was your childhood? ¿Good? ¿Bad? ¿OK?
, Chance asked sitting forward in his chair, notepad wobbling on his knees.
Anibal turned to Chance. I don’t feel comfortable ’bout this. I’m not giving you my private info, no matter how much you pay me
.
Chance had a look o’ mock concern on his face. ¿How dangerous could a few innocuous stories be? You don’t need to name names: just treat it like a fiction story
.
Anibal finally decided to treat it just like that: by making stories up wholefabric.
Finally, their hour ended & Anibal sat back up, rubbing his back gratefully.
I think we truly accomplished a lot
, said Chance. Thank you
.
As Anibal reached the door, he turned back to Chance & said, Don’t take this meanly, but for your sake, I think this weird fetish o’ yours would be better worked out in therapy
.
Chance didn’t say anything as Anibal left; he just had a blank stare.