15 WOLFIEAfter trudging up the steps, I enter a small office. The receptionist asks my name and then waves me on through the door at the far end of the room.
“Go on in. She’s expecting you.”
With nervous knots tying intricate patterns inside my stomach, I step through the doorway, but stop almost immediately.
A middle-aged woman sits behind a desk. Her hair is dark but threaded with silver, and she smiles and removes a pair of purple reading glasses when she spots me.
“Hi there. Come on in.”
I take one more tentative step forward, then stop.
This was a stupid idea. My life has felt a little out of control lately. I thought talking with someone—a professional—might help. Now I don’t think I can go through with it.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time. I don’t know why I’m here.”
“It’s f
