My Little Golden Book of Phobias

I got a therapist today. She's nice. (what kind of word is that, nice?) I spilled my guts and she sat there calmly. Ah, trauma.

Here is a thing. With trauma, I feel a sense of doom, like something else bad will happen, SOON. There will be another phone call, someone I know will have something bad happen. I don't know what it is, or where it will come from. It's an earthquake feeling, the ground bucking and heaving, the asphalt rising up and acting like a snake. Hissing.

Rebecca's satsuma is breaking open. Actually, it is wizened, a geriatric citrus item. It needs a walker and a crafts hour.