A People Whisperer

My job was to go in and deal with people who had been emotionally damaged or disturbed.  I wasn't there to provide therapy or analysis or anything like that.  I was just there to get them back on track, to ease the transition, to get them to a place where they could function in their lives again.

I showed up one morning to visit a client.  Her apartment was laid out in such a way that you had to cut through the kitchen on your way in, and as I was passing through I noticed two cold slices of toast sticking up from the toaster.  I found the client, Karen, in the living room clutching to a third slice of toast with both hands as she nibbled nervously at it.  "Karen", I said gently, as I typically did in such situations, "you know that there are already two slices of toast in the toaster."

"I can't go back in there.", she shook her head on the verge of panic.  Her eyes were sore and bulging, and for a second I saw it just as she did, the shadow lurking in the doorway at the end of the counter.  I crossed the room and took her in my arms, drawing her towards me.  "I know there are dark places sometimes.  It's alright.  It's all going to be okay."

But as she started away from me, I began to think of the worst thing I could do at the moment.  I thought of how awful it would be if I came up behind her and grabbed her and let out a loud yelp.  You know, like a joke.  And then somehow I found myself compelled forward, actually doing it whether I wanted to or not.  I grabbed her and yelled, and I ended up startling myself so much that I woke up.