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Sneak Peek: Full-Contact Psychotherapist, chapter 2
🕑 Added 2021-11-04 21:24:07 +0000 UTC(Now I know what button NOT to press to confirm a tag in Patreon's interface... At any rate, here's chapter 2 of Full-Contact Psychotherapy! I've been inspired to keep writing this and I'll keep sharing it with you as I go, typos and all. If you ever wondered what my writing looks like before it's edited, here you go! ^^ And now without further ado, chapter 2.)
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All was quiet save for the faucet, a constant stream of water having stepped in to replace the rain outside. Considering how ancient the rest of the house was, sandwiched as it was between so many others like it on the city street, the bathroom looked positively modern.
They stared at their reflection, one hand holding their facemask under the tap while the other pinched a bloodied paper tissue around their nose. The dark walnut walls and bright lighting all around the frameless mirror only served to bring the stranger into stark focus.
“Well, aren’t we a sight,” they said with a sigh. “Still, we made it to the client’s house, on time for once. And in one piece, too!”
The phone’s glass screen lit up on the counter, dancing closer to the sink as it shook from the incoming call.
“Not now, Cam.” The stranger reached down to poke at the bright red button with the back of their finger, gently pushing it away from the precipice. They paused, taking a look at the stained tissue in their hand. It had almost gone dry. “About time,” they said, throwing it into the plastic-lined garbage can with the others. They took a tentative breath, then another, and then sighed with relief.
The facemask had not fared as well as the nose it had been covering, but thankfully the stain wouldn’t look that much out of place among the dark brown fabric. “A first time for everything,” the stranger said aloud as they wrung the mask as dry as they could. “Besides, now next time won’t be as bad.” They turned off the faucet and folded the mask neatly, slipping it into an outside pocket of their suit jacket.
The phone rang again.
“Yes I know, Cam!” the stranger said as they reached for the soap, as if a modicum of freshening up would magically let them have another chance at a decent first impression with their client. A quick lather, a quick rinse, a towel—a paper towel, in case the nosebleed relapsed—and there was practically a new person standing at the mirror.
But if the expression on their face was any indication, they knew better. There were amounts of exhaustion that even the longest lashes couldn’t hide. They grimaced one way, then another, their attention focused on the spaces on either side of their upper lip. Another sigh, though this time one of resignation.
The stranger dug a small stick-like tool out of their hair, shaking out the salt-and-pepper curls and letting them fall to their shoulders. They leaned closer to the mirror. With a flick of their wrist, the instrument in their hand produced a blade, which they brought up to their cheek.
Faint scraping filled the air as the instrument was carefully and methodically drawn across the rogue whiskers, facial hair falling like wheat to a scythe. The stranger repeated the motions with practiced ease once, then twice on either side before leaning back to admire their handiwork. Or, at least, bear witness to it.
Their work done, they blew on the blade in one percussive burst of air. They turned the tool over and around with one hand while gathering up their messy curls into a bun with the other, bringing the two together in a single motion. The ritual of presentation was complete.
The stranger took a deep breath. “Well. That’ll have to do, won’t it?”
The phone rang once more for the third time.
“Ah ah, sorry Cam! Can’t hear you, the appointment’s already begun!” the stranger said as they shoved the phone inside their jacket, their hand searching along the rows of interior pockets. They tightened their grip and triumphantly pulled out a small object.
A sealed, glossy paper packet, with a simple depiction of leaves on one side.
“Our client awaits,” the stranger said as they closed the bathroom door behind them and headed down the hallway.
Comments
Snowbun
Good stuff good stuff good stuff
