MEETING
To Gurgen Khanjyan
I cross the street and direct my steps to the neurologist’s house. I’ve not been feeling well lately; I can’t listen to anything anyone says; every little sound gets on my nerves. It’s like everyone is shouting, I can’t watch television, I don’t feel like seeing anyone. I’ve isolated myself – I don’t leave the house, I don’t even switch on the lights at my place, light hurts my eyes. I sit all day alone at home in the dark.
The neurologist’s elder daughter opens the door, greets me warmly and tells me to wait in the living room. I say hello to the two men sitting there, take a seat on the greenish couch in the corner, and wait. I hang my head, I’m picking at my nails, and it feels like the men can’t help but stare at me. I peek out of the corner of my eye – no
