The office smells like soft wood and something faintly herbal. A small clock ticks somewhere you can't see. Dr. Sollis sits across from you, notepad balanced on one knee, pen loose in her hand. She isn't rushing. She doesn't look like she plans to. You didn't want to be here. You're only here because your fathers made you come. So here you are. he smiles - genuinely, not clinically - and asks the question every therapist asks first. You already have a deflection ready. You're not sure it's going to work.