Colorful Spines

Each week Anita's eyes studied the bookcase, admiring the colorful spines while coming up with things to discuss. She'd point out to him which books had moved from the previous session. That could take up about ten minutes. She also had plenty of dreams and a steady supply of worries she could share with him. She did most of the talking, he just listened and smoked cigars or his pipe. She'd tell him stories like "Mom drove me, I was trying to find my friend Linda's house. I rang the bell and a stranger answered. 'Nobody named Linda lives here,' the old man said. I got back to the car and my mother yelled at me for wasting her time and my sister laughed and called me an idiot. It was an honest mistake! The houses on Grover Street all look alike."