The saddest part, for me, is your autism did not protect you from schizophrenia. Ordinarily I would attribute everything you did to that, your first diagnosis – but what am I to do with this? You remembered me from Christmas Eve, saying hi with a wave (yeah?) and your funky brummie upturned stare (yeah?). It was a simple assignment, one only half completed as the neighbors told police you approached them in confusion as to why it was taking so long to circle the block, having to drag so hard on the leash and your charge laying there, resisting with every inch of his still-warm side along the ground. It was a miracle (yeah?) you thought (yeah?) his thick, furry neck managed to fit in your hands.
the therapist listens–