The trip to the therapist's office appeared to drag out infinitely.
Ethan sat in the passenger seat, his shoulders hunched and his eyes cast down, as though the world's weight bore down on his thin frame. We drove in silence, shrouded in a dense fog, and I was lost for words.
What was there to say? My mind spun frantically, struggling to untangle the knotted feelings brewing in the recesses of his mind and extract the emotions concealed therein.
I couldn't help but steal glances at him, but every passing glance had the effect of pushing him further away as if he were shrouded in a seemingly impassable, gaping pit of blackness. Finally, I steered the car into the parking lot and turned off the engine.
"Ethan," I said softly, taking a sidelong glance at him. "We're here. I know this is
