Patterns

"Harwa, you've been very quiet for the past couple of weeks in group," the Night Therapist said (and all eyes turned toward the mummy). "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, but I'd like to ask if you'll talk about how you're doing." He shifted in his seat. "I was ... a steward in life," Harwa spoke very slowly and softly. "It is natural for me to attend others and hold my tongue." "Okay, but you don't have a tongue anymore," the werewolf said. "Jeffrey," the Night Therapist cautioned. "Sorry," Jeffrey grumbled. Harwa coughed (or laughed; with mummies, it was difficult to tell). "It is fine, for it is true. Perhaps, after all of this time, I am still caught in old patterns. Everything else has turned to dust, but I remain steadfast in my ways." The nosferatu nodded and the blob jiggled in agreement. "As we begin to grow aware that what keeps us from moving forward is the energy we put into the past, we can make different choices about our current state," the Night Therapist said. "We can shape a different future." Harwa leaned forward. "Yes," he agreed. "I would like to exercise more of my own will ... and step into my own unlife (as you have so often said). I would like to relax. I am very tightly wound." There was a moment's silence and then the werewolf burst into spasms of laughter. "Jeffrey," the Night Therapist said sternly, noting that the others were barely keeping it together.

Van

Kiss