Excerpt #13: A Pretty Little Therapist

     So there I sat, looking at a pretty, middle-aged woman whose dress struck me as being a little out of place for the crowded little room we were in.  To me she looked as if she was dressed for an evening out on the town, with a silk scarf around her neck that gave me the feeling that I just might be in the wrong place. I couldn't believe that I'd been referred to her for pyschotherapy, and as a matter of fact that's not what I got, at least not the kind I was accustomed to. Anyway we began, and after a few preliminaries she got to the meat of the problem: us. That problem became an additional problem for me. Over time it seemed as if my issues took a back seat because I ended up struggling to control my temper with the irresponsible remarks she threw at me. Right away I was getting hell for just being there, and that was only the beginning.

Author's note: Guess who she is, what is her name?