Dr. Karen Park's office maintained a carefully calibrated neutrality—an aesthetic Switzerland in the war zone of human emotions. Nothing too cheerful (condescending), nothing too somber (depressing), just the right beige-adjacent color palette to suggest "your psychological breakdown is in good hands."
Jim fidgeted on the ergonomically correct chair that somehow managed to be simultaneously supportive and uncomfortable, like advice from a well-meaning relative. Ten months sober, and he still couldn't sit still during therapy. Progress had its limits.
"You've had quite a week," Dr. Park observed, her understatement game stronger than ever. "Viral fame, record deals, band reunions. That's a lot of change very quickly."
"Change is putting it mildly," Jim replied. "It's more like the univer
