Marji
The words on my screen fade as I shake my head. Dr. Kizer is probably ready to fire me. Since last Saturday I've been a mess. My mind is anywhere but on what I'm doing or what she's saying. As it is today, I was late and I'm over a day behind in transcribing her sessions. Before the text from Dorothy, I was having difficulty finding my usual joy with the clients' revelations. The joy they share at their discoveries is what I had wanted.
Or so I thought.
Now that I've had it, a taste of what I've only imagined, I want more than the one-time experience. I want what comes after, whatever that may be.
Now that the text arrived and I again have hope for more—though I don't know what—I can't concentrate. My mind is filled with possibilities that make my body both excited and nervous. M
