The walls of the office were painted pink and white. He never liked pink. But, Charles was happy. Charles was going to live his life to the fullest. He didn’t need to be here, no. He just wanted to check in with her. They hadn’t had a meeting in months.

He adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, his wrists were getting itchy. He could hear the sobs of the other clients through the thin-as-paper walls of the waiting room. He didn’t understand why anyone could be so sad, life was good. Charles could never think of any reason to be upset.

He gulped, his neck felt kind of funny. He looked at the other clients, their faces riddled with depression. He always felt weird around sad people. He always felt a little out of place, but the feeling doubled around sad people.

Finally, he was called into the office. He felt funny, he felt like he didn’t fit in. Like, he was different then them all somehow. They sat down.

“So, Charlie,” she leaned in, “You do know they have pills for depression? Suicide’s never the answer.”

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