The Days Go Slowly By

snippet oo5

How are you spending your time? The chief psychiatrist asks. His mustache twitches above his upper lip like a rodent pinned between his nose and his mouth. He has large, round glasses. Specks of sweat roll down his temple. He looks typical. His office smells like formaldehyde and death.

He’s always reading, Adrian’s mother answers for him. He brings home three books a day. He doesn't go outside. He's losing weight.

Mother's worries.

The doctor flicks his beady eyes to his notepad. He has another query.

Forget the mustache. The man himself is a rodent. The doctor clasps his hands around his middle. They’re pink and naked. It makes Adrian conscious of his own hands.

He digs them into his pockets and ignores the burning.

He plasters his gaze onto the doctor's damp forehead to keep from crying.

The golden plaque on his desk says, “Dr. Laszlo. Something, something, PHD.”

Dr. Laszlo tries to make eye contact with Adrian, but Adrian is thinking about the rain outside. He’s thinking about the paper diplomas mounted on the wall in front of him. He’s thinking about all the work people put into their lives for a piece of paper with their name on it.

If you don’t have this piece of paper you aren’t certified.

Once you have this piece of paper feel free to forget everything you’ve learned through years of schooling.

Adrian is trying to remember what he ate for dinner last night.

We don’t know what to do, Adrian’s mother blurts.

Dr. Laszlo’s mustache twitches.

Adrian is trying to remember how many hotdogs he ate on the 4th of July.

If he thinks hard enough he won’t be able to hear the way his mother’s teeth grind when she’s nervous. He won’t be able to hear the clock ticking away in the corner of Dr. Laszlo’s office.

Adrian? Are you with us?

Yes.

He fixates his steely, gray eyes on Dr. Laszlo.

The doctor’s mustache twitches again, but it’s a different, more uncomfortable spasm.

To reassure him, Adrian’s mother always tells him that new acquaintances are put off by his strong shoulders. They only see people as tall as him on national television.

She doesn’t say anything this time.

Can you repeat the question, Dr. Laszlo? I wasn’t paying attention.

The quietness of Adrian’s speech pattern almost diverts Dr. Laszlo’s attention from the sinister pitch of his voice.

He hasn’t seen anything like Adrian’s deep set, stale eyes, or the way they light up when someone has his attention. Like Times Square.

He will make a note of this in their future sessions.

Author's Note

{ a troubled boy visits a psychiatrist }

Reviews

[Brittany]

First of all, you have a very unique style of writing. It's not really like anything I've read before, other than one of my favorite books. It reminds me of "I am the Messenger" by Markus Zusak. If you haven't read it, I definitely reccomend it. I like how you described the psychiatrist as a rat and just you could picture him as much as you had to. You know he seems to be a peculiar kind of person, and that's really all you need to know. And I also liked the part about the diplomas. To me, blurbs like that are what make a story great-interesting insights that you put into the story. Anywho, I would be interested in seeing more of this story. I'd like to find out what "He" has specifically wrong with him, and get into the details of this story. Great piece of writing right here.

[Two Timer]

ahhhh i love your style. why don't you write moore!!

[Henry Daube]

oh....

[Man-Alive!]

formaldehyde is not usually found in a psychiatrist's office. Is he a serial killer?

And the thing about the paper diplomas mounted on the wall, they're usually paper, but other details are excellent-- the doctors hands make Adrian conscious of his own hands. Great stuff. Adrian is trying to remember what he ate for dinner last night, his mother grinding her teeth. I'm thinking that the person with the problem is the mother and not Adrian. Huge potential.

I sure want more, H ;^)

[Dane Osborne]

I f*****g love this s**t. I think that we live in a society thats structured in such a way that people are made to feel guilty for their real nature OR for what nature has done to them(Adrians unusual size) Things like psychiatry as noble as it is in its intentions along with other social institutions are used to enforce that guilt.People talk about free will but we have no real free will if you realy think about it. Our will is imposed on subconsciously as much as it is consciously and I think this story is a good example of that. Bravo hon' bravo. Little girl you've gotten to be one of my favorite writers on here keep it up and send me your s**t anytime:)

[Doctor JKC]

Psychiatrists are dinosaurs; so musty.
Slink meat. Never seeing the light of day.
The rain and diplomas amount to the same
nothing.
They all need to die.
Dr. Callaghan