In the Nick of Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

and feel more optimistic about the day. Oftentimes it replaced her a.m. cup of coffee, but when the clock struck at dawn that particular morning, she simply wasn’t feeling it. A few minutes later, the crowd dispersed, and like a herd of sheep, they filtered out past the chalky white door. The damn thing was painted, and then painted a million more times over. The chipping undercoat always unnerved her, made her feel particularly stabby. Like a misbehaved child on her way to the principal’s office, she travelled behind Frieda, shoulders slumped as somnolent daydreams of a morning nap taunted her. The counselor’s shapely hips waved from side to side like a daydreaming cat’s tail perched upon a windowsill. She found it slightly entertaining, another avenue to travel through to escape her looming fate. They entered the small office, decked out in silver and forest green and smelling of freesia, something similar to burnt leaves and a hint of baby powder.
    She took a seat in front of the small, shiny brown desk and leaned back in the dark gray, pleather chair before reinforcing her scarf, tying it meticulously back over her barely there black tresses.
    “Okay, Taryn. Give it to me straight.” The woman leaned forward, giving a more prominent view of her large, velvety breasts.
    They look so soft…
    She ogled them for a moment or two, then cast her attention back into the lady’s eyes.
    “I woke up not feeling well this morning.” Taryn toyed with her fingers, running them along one another as if massaging in essential oils.
    “And you couldn’t say that in front of the others because of what?”
    “Because I get tired of complaining.”
    “But you don’t complain, Taryn. You go through things and never tell anyone, remember? That’s been one of your issues.” The woman fell back into her seat, taking her two fluffy friends with her.
    Goodbye so soon?
    “It isn’t an issue. Well, okay.” She smiled, surely showing all of her teeth as she wiggled a bit in her seat. “Let me rephrase that. I’m aware of what you are talking about.” Her shoulders slumped slightly as she tossed a partial concession the lady’s way. “But with people like Oliver sitting there, goading, I just didn’t feel compelled.” She shrugged. “I am so damn sick of him.” She looked away from the woman’s glaring emerald eyes and tossed her sights towards her own swinging beige sandals. Her toes were painted bright yellow. At least something was sunny.
    “You have to ignore Oliver, Taryn,” Frieda stated listlessly, as if it were written on some big wall for all to see, listed as law. “I will deal with him privately, just as I do all of you for issues such as this. Regardless, you can’t let him or anyone else influence or derail your treatment. We offer open expression here.” The woman’s hands hung loosely over the chair arms. Taryn’s barely there brows burrowed as she stared at the lady’s unsightly cuticles. “So I’m not in the business of policing everyone but I do demand all of us respect one another, and that was lost today.”
    When was the last time she cut those?! They look like a skin silhouette of the damn city skyline! Frieda…your cuticles, baby… damn…
    “I don’t give a shit about Oliver and his opinion.” She sucked in air, took it to the head, slow and long like an old fashioned leisurely Sunday stroll, and exhaled just as unhurriedly. “I think you’ve misunderstood me or maybe I didn’t make myself clear. That’s highly possible, wouldn’t be the first time. No, that’s not it.” She shook her head as she searched for the right words, daring herself to not be sarcastic, come clean. “I just don’t want him knowing anything else about me is all. He’s so goddamn negative and such a drain on everyone. Someone needs to put him in his place. I don’t even feel that I, or anyone else for that matter, should be in treatment with him.” She pointed to her chest. “He is a