By Melanie Schulz
By
Andy bowed her head into her hands. “It’s hard to describe,” she mumbled, “this nothingness.”
“You’ve said that before,” her therapist observed.
Andy sat up straight again. “That’s because it’s true; it never changes. No matter how many of these damn pills you give me.” She threw a handful of blue and white speckled ones on the table between them.
The therapist scrambled to pick them up. “You can’t do that, Andy; these are controlled medications.”
She held out her open hand to Andy, full of the pills. Andy shifted her head away.
The silence wore on. “Maybe it’s time you saw someone else.”
Andy’s gaze moved to the window. “Maybe it is.”
“Andy.”
Her eyes flitted open. A familiar face smiled down at her. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it; you looked like you were
