On The Couch
Vincent takes a deep breath. Doctor Samson hadn't spoken yet, waiting for him to make himself comfortable. He lays down on the couch, then sits up, then lays back down again. He turns on his side, facing out the window. Samson's office had an excellent view. The place always smelled like crushed peppermint as well. He wondered if that was just for him, or for all his patients. It was probably just for him, or only a few others. Samson was meticulous like that.
Before it had been a full five minutes into the hour, he finally cleared his throat, speaking up.
"So.. It was my idea to seek some manner of professional help. Kristoff agreed it was in order and chose you."
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