Madness of the Gods

Photo by Judeus Samson on Unsplash

“I am Prometheus,” I say.

The shrink stops writing and looks up. “You feel like Prometheus? From the Greek myth?”

I shrug. Her tiny office squashes in around us, filing cabinets and shelves and a bulletin board punched with greeting cards and sticky notes and photos of her little terrier. Two chairs, one for her, one for me, the kind that spin. I keep doing quarter-turns, back and forth, back and forth…