His Gray Half

6. Rims And Unwishes

Chapter Six:

|Rims and Unwishes|

•••

There was a rushing invasion of chill from the AC. He felt a bit sensitive to it at first, but seconds after turning back the golden knob and shutting the door, he felt more at home with it.

The TV wasn't on and he dreaded it. He wished once in a while Hamilton would have the sport's or some other freaking channel up, and he'd have something to use as a distraction from some of Hamilton's awkward questions of which he wasn't entirely immune providing honest answers to.
Shit! He curses himself each time, and mentally has his palms over his mouth.

Hamilton has been the only living thing he has openly been speaking to since he had his first "breakdown". Talking about his sad life all the time wasn't much of a treat as Aaron would hope, and digressing from his seesaw mental state to a very different topic entirely, was worth the talk. Adrian was worth the talk. It was nice to have someone to talk about his romantic life with –semi pseudo paraplegic romance –even though it wasn't for free.

It felt regular and archaic and old and a total cliché when he took his first step towards the man. He expected to feel something new, but it was still the same. From the ground floor elevator to the third floor where Hamilton's office was; the purple orchid that hung to right side of the door; the room thirty seven copper plated office number with Dr H. E. Greenfield boldly inscribed beneath, everything up unto this moment felt too predictable and strangely insipid.

Inside wasn't any better: the cold AC; black TV screen; the bookshelf that occupied the greater part of the right sage green wall, containing things on psychology, philosophy, and books on the human mind. He could even spot Ben Carson's "Think Big" written across the spine of one of the books. There was a large portrait of he, his ex wife, and his daughters anchored to the side of the shelf. They looked happy with their brooding smiles that stretches the jaw, silver teeth and a calmness from their posture...they were too happy even, only that in Aaron's head, happiness was relatively based on ones state of mind, and it was also a short-term achievement...quite underachieving.

Just opposite the door was a big window with a desk in front of it, it had only a leather chair that will often creak it joints each time Hamilton will choose to either withdraw his weight, or settle it in. Guess from inception, he never did plan on having any conversion by the desk anyways: it could probably be where he felt the most safest at.

Two peach coloured sofas faced each other, just in front of the desk. It had a slim glass table abridging each sofa. Hamilton didn't admire the need for distances between he and his patients, so the table between the couches, was really slender.

Aaron had already considered here a safe space, so the familiarity helped him feel more at home.

"Familiar is safe. New is a variable. Don't consider variables." Aaron's mother would often tell him when he was much much younger.

This familiar office, was home.

"I wasn't expecting you this week. You haven't shown up for the past three weeks!"

Hamilton spoke immediately the door's lock was in. He was flipping the pages of a book so quickly and skimming through the lines like he was hunting the text monster. And of course, the monster hunt had his attention until Aaron took a seat in the sofa right opposite his.

"I didn't feel the need to any longer." Aaron responded while retracting his gaze from Hamilton's, and had his head bent. There was a pounding urge of emotions he wanted to let free, and what they were were things that normally follow with judgement as a teenager, and those were what he wanted to directly avoid: judging eyes.
"I still follow him around you know..."
He dropped it.