By Basra Keynan
“Take a seat, Kay”, said Dr. Jameson. I sat down and sunk into the sofa. “So, how are you feeling?” I started to pick at my nails. I’ve had a hangnail for a week. “Fine”, I said. “Okay. What’s been happening this week? You’re mom told me you had a lot of exams and even a presentation at school”. The hangnail stung. “Um, yeah. I had to even an oral presentation on German Expansion”. “You didn’t feel anxious or paniced during or after”, he said while scratching notes. I stopped fiddling with my hangnail. I sat on my nail so it wouldn’t sting, but it hurt more. I bite on my lip. “So, do you think that it is getting easier? Speaking in public. You haven’t felt hopeless”. ”No”, I said. Jameson pulled something from behind his chair. It was jar filled with apple seeds. “I know you’ve been skipping school. You know that consuming that many apple seeds leads to cyanide poisoning”. “I’m sorry I lied. I just haven’t felt right since”. I feel tears behind my eyes. “I know. You don’t need to feel right to get help. Help is here”.