Seeing Strange Stuff (1)

A boy sees strange things.
"We're worried about you, sweetie," says Mom. Her voice wobbles uncertainly as she continues, "We think you've gone crazy."

"We?" I question.

"Your father and I," she explains. "We've talk things through, and although you hate the idea, I think it's best for you. Your father is right. This is going a little too far." She holds my hand and offers a small squeeze. "You need a therapist, darling."

I frown. "I didn't think you, of all people, would turn against me."

"I'm not turning against you," she replies sadly. "I'm doing what I think is best for you."

"You're repeating yourself," I notice.

"Because I truly mean it."


"I really do," she insists.

"I believe you." I snatch my hand away from hers. "I saw this coming anyway."

"I guess everyone saw this coming, hun," she says with a small smile.

"So did they see this in their dreams too?" I ask, even though I knew the answer to that already.

She stares at me carefully. "You know I love you, darling, but sometimes you let your imaginations run wild. No one can see the future. That's just impossible."

"Right." I sigh. It's pointless going on and on about it. Trust me, I've tried convincing them, but I end up looking like a bigger fool and getting a headache.

"Who's my therapist?" I ask in curiosity.

"Um, well, we haven't really made arrangements yet," she says, slightly startled. "I wanted your consent first."

My eyes look past her and settle onto the creature with a long body, a short neck and stout legs which are curled against its body. Its fur color varies from red to tawny yellow, it has a lot of black stripes in different widths and lengths. The cheeks, throat, and the insides of the ears and legs are white.

It's a tiger and it's sleeping peacefully on the carpet.

I laugh quietly. "I think I need a therapist too."
Published: 2/28/2013
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