Master Class this week gave us three choices. Shattered precipice, rugged resolutions, and Auld Lang Syne. Shattered precipice spoke to me this time. While the short story is ending up too long to post all at once, here's the first part. Any feedback is welcome, particularly about whether or not there's too much explanation at the start. And, this story does touch on PTSD, the military, and the conflict in the Middle East. It is still PG-13 and under, but I don't want anyone to be caught off guard by the implied trauma issues in the story. Thanks for stopping by!
“Welcome. I presume Mr. Andreson is waiting elsewhere?”
“Yes. Why do you presume that?” the man scrubbed
his buzzed silver hair.
“I intend
no offense, but you did not strike me as a troubled man who just returned from
a second tour in the Middle East. Also,
your voice sounds familiar to me. Since I
have never spoken to Mr. Andreson, you are likely not him. Therefore, I believe you to be Mr. Andreson’s
father. I am Ms. Harper’s assistant,
Michael.”
“Ah. Yes.
John Andreson,” he thrust out his hand as he cleared his throat, “My son
is waiting outside.”
Michael
shook the proffered hand, “Please, Mr. Andreson.”
“John.”
“John,
then. Please, relax. Ms. Harper will be with us shortly. There is nothing to fear here. She has already agreed to assist your son.”
“If you can
even get him in the building.”
Michael
showed Mr. Andreson to a small, cozy waiting area surrounded by picture windows
that offered a magnificent view of the city, “May I get you something to drink?”
“No. Is Ms. Harper as good as the price tag she
puts on this suggests?”
“How did
you learn of Ms. Harper?”
“What does
that matter?”
“Please. Indulge me and I will make it clear.”
“The last
therapist we took Lucas to suggested her when he couldn’t get Lucas to even set
foot in his office. Said something about
Ms. Harper doing some research into this new kind of therapy that has done a
lot for other veterans with PTSD.”