Constance is sitting behind her desk. She is journaling, as always, during the breaks between patients. She would like to dive deep into the whirlwind of thoughts, but being surprised by patients looks unprofessional. So she forces herself to look at her watch from time to time.
She sighs. Her patient will arrive any minute, but she has so many thoughts. Constance stops writing and closes the journal. She opens the shelves and finds the patient's notes in them. She reads through her notes quickly. As she reads, she starts recalling their sessions. Constance smiles a little. This patient has made so much progress. Really, it is moments like this that justify her decision to become a psychologist.
It is time. She knocks on the table with her nails impatiently. It's strange; this patient isn't used to being late. She hopes nothing has happened. Then her secretary politely knocks and enters.
"أنت is here. Should I send him in to you, Dr. Blackwood?"
"Sure," Constance replies firmly.
