It's the drink talking

It was hard to see the therapist in the dark. The dim overhead light cast deep shadows over his face, barely illuminating the tops of his ears and bridge of a long nose. The rest was lost in darkness, swathed in the deep black of the silent room.
I breathed out slowly, trying to focus myself. The session was taking me to difficult questions, making me focus on thoughts I would rather ignore, and it took effort. I felt like I was stumbling barefoot across jagged rocks, knowing that if I didn’t,...