down the path were a few benches along a circular plaza, adorned by a sheltered winter bed and the crowns of old ash trees that only grew in mountain latitudes. He loved the shadows cast by the bare, massive branches of these powerful trees. They formed a whimsical pattern on the old gray sidewalk tiles. Robert involuntarily slowed his step as he walked past. But the square was quite small, and as soon as he crossed it, he almost immediately found himself in a busy neighborhood with several stores. That’s where most of the city’s residents regularly shopped on weekends.
The stores were just opening. A guy brought fresh baked goods to the bakery in a van. Discussing something with the salesman, he unloaded tray after tray, bringing them into the store. A florist, for some reason unkindly looking at him, intensively sprayed the flowers exposed on the open showcase. So, grinning slightly, Robert turned his gaze to the glass windows of clothing stores. They were habitually displaying almost all the available costumes, put on mannequins. Such is the naivety of provincial marketing masters. In general Robert should have bought himself a new purse long ago, and on another day, had he been freer, he would certainly have gone into a small store with accessories. His salesman, an old haberdasher, who five years ago had been selling in a flimsy stall at the market, had now set up a pleasant “salon. He was always able to find the right option for Robert, smoothing out the pain of choice with up-to-date gossip.
The city lived its quiet and unremarkable life. He was a part of the city that tended to take part, even if timidly, in everything that was going on. However, in Robert’s opinion, it was quite insignificant. Immersed in his thoughts, he almost bumped into a jeep that had parked sharply in the middle of the sidewalk. A stocky man in a black down jacket fell out of the car and without any explanation attacked Robert shouting:
– Watch where you are going! Don’t you look under your feet at all, – followed by a couple of swear words.
The words fell like snow on my head and made me angry – after all he was not breaking anything, was not disturbing anyone.
– Hey! Watch where you’re going! Standing on the sidewalk! I’m going to call the traffic police and see… – Suddenly for himself Robert blurted out, stopping for a second. The blood rushed to his head instantly.
– The cleverest one has appeared.
The careless driver practically walked right up to him and apparently completely ignored the threat that came his way. The tension was building:
– I’m going to hit you before you get your phone out.
– Watch what you’re saying! There’s a lot of people here. What, you want to go to the station? – He wouldn’t let up, and didn’t move from his seat.
The prospect of a fight right before the consultation with a therapist didn’t particularly inspire him, but he was really angry. His recent frustrations were showing, and he didn’t feel much like holding back. Clenching his fists, he waited for the reaction of the boor, who, nervously twisting the keys in his hand, stared angrily at Robert.
Robert was plucked from oblivion by the ringing of the phone. It triggered a reminder of the consultation that was about to begin. The sound had a sobering effect on both of them, causing the driver to stop and shut up, and Robert to walk further down the sidewalk. He did, however, allow himself to wag his finger at his temple, in response to which his accidental companion shouted something rude in his wake. However, Robert didn’t hear what it was, because he was again immersed in his thoughts, thinking about what he would see and hear in the next hour and a half.
The consulting room was decorated in pleasant light colors. Fortunately, it didn’t have the main irritant that Robert was inwardly afraid of – the semi-darkness and the smell of incense, which caused him only melancholy. On the contrary, every detail of the interior tuned his thoughts to active work. Here is a freakishly curved vase by the window, composed as if of pieces of broken glass, paintings in the art nouveau style … All these nice nuances made up the general composition and remained distinctive separate elements at the same time. The furniture was laconic without fussy details. The guests were seated in soft brown sack chairs, and there was no space at all for a lecturer. A standard glossy white board hung on the wall, and above it a clock of the same white color with black strokes in a circle that conventionally denoted the numbers of the dial.
“Nothing taxing on the mind, nice, – Robert’s mind raced. – Nothing to be distracted by.” He looked at the people. The consulting room was filled with all sorts of clients. This fact surprised and intrigued him at the same time. To Robert’s right sat a young, moody-looking girl with a notebook in her hands. The closest to the board, with his back to him, was a man in his fifties, looking through something on his smartphone. Two middle-aged women, dressed as if for a dinner party, took seats near the exit. They were talking animatedly. Right next to Robert sat a young man about his age, dressed in a simple but cozy brown sweater and black worn jeans. The young man was jotting something down on a clipboard, but at the same time he looked frequently at his guests, and at Robert as well. It was not difficult to guess that it was this young guy, noticeably different from the inhabitants of this provincial town, who was an psychotherapist’s assistant.
So when he once again stared at Robert, the latter, without taking his eyes off him, asked:
– I’m here for the first time, maybe you can tell me what format it’s going to be in?
– Um… – The guy hesitated.
Then, with a slight furrowed brow, answered loudly, no doubt attracting the attention of everyone present:
– Jessica is now writing a new book that will be devoted to testing a new method for dealing with negative emotions and attacks of the ‘outside environment’, as she says. To ensure that the method receives sufficient support among readers, clients and practitioners alike, she has set herself the goal of gathering a group of test subjects, who will then become the protagonists of the book, so to speak… And… I’m on the team.
– This is the first time I’ve heard of this approach.
Robert could not help but admit that what he heard clearly interested him, so he moved his chair closer to the young man and asked:
– In the team?
– Ah, well… – Robert’s interlocutor grinned.
Tapping the tablet lock screen and looking at Robert again, he continued:
– That’s what I call those who Jessica has already selected to her group. By the way, I’m Mark.
– Nice to meet you, Robert.
Introducing himself, Robert said that Mark looked not only a very agile, quick-witted and enthusiastic man, but also incredibly cheerful and energetic, animatedly taking part in everything that was happening and as if charged with something from inside.
– And how is the selection process carried out? – Robert asked a question that naturally arose.
But he didn’t get an answer, because a young woman entered the room, where about 15 people had already gathered, and with a springy gait, looking at everyone present one by one, approached the blackboard. She didn’t seem to lose sight of anyone, and the attentive gaze of her dark eyes also stopped on Robert and Mark. She fit wonderfully into the interior of the room. There was nothing pretentious about her appearance: a dark blue woolen dress with a closed neck, high booted boots without heels, brown hair pulled up into a bun above her head. And absolutely no jewelry, not in his ears, not on his neck, not on his wrists. An absolutely calm and laconic image. Nothing about her could distract the listener from the penetrating gaze, the half-smile that almost never left her face, and the highly entertaining conversation that captivated everyone in the room from the very first seconds.
– I am very grateful to all of you that on this Sunday morning you decided to spend some time talking to me, – the coach began her speech, and Robert immediately understood why there was no