I Should've been a Psychiatrist

I sit in my office, checking my email for any new messages. As I scroll through the spam folder to see if there's anything besides low m0rtg@g3s and discount \/1@gra my Secretary informs me that my 2:00 appointment has arrived. "One moment," I say as I shove my hastily scrawled notes on how to kill someone with simple words into my desk. It never pays to look unprofessional. Looking over my workplace with satisfaction, I realign a few pens, and call out "Send her in." A young woman walks in. Her face is pale in stark contrast to her raven hair. She wears a heavy coat even though it is midsummer. She glances around nervously, and I gesture to the couch. As she sits, I notice she clutches her handbag almost defensively. I light my pipe and begin to speak. "What seems to be amiss madam?" I inquire. She whispers something so inaudibly I can't make it out. "Pardon?" She raises her head and looks directly at me with haunted eyes. "The Voices." I nod, and proceed with the basic questions of what they say and who they're from. Three hours later and I thank her for her time, and lead her to the door. At the front desk she writes me a large check, and leaves. She may never be cured, but I know better than to tell her that. Instead, I just go back to my desk, log on to my blog, and post about the Psychos I met today.