Prompt: New Life  |  Word Count: 1000  |  Genre: Drama
My shrink advised me to write down my thoughts in a journal. I advised him to stick his suggestions where the sun don’t shine. That was back when I was still seeing the beanpole. Three sessions and I’d had it. The world got along just fine without head doctors until now. We don’t need ‘em.
So anyway. Here I am. Writing. The asshole.
It all started that day I was driving down Sycamore Lane. I’d just finished a typical conversation with my daughter, who lives four states over, in Tampa Florida. Linda’s a pain sometimes, but she’s a good girl.
“You still seeing, Dr. Smith, daddy?”
“Yeah, ‘course.”
“That’s good. And…”
Here it comes, I thought.
“And how are you doing?”
“Good”, I lied.
She could tell I didn’t want to talk and tied things up quickly. Bless her.

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