#lighthouseclinic

[toast-to-lonely-souls]

@thelighthouseclinic

“My wife thinks I’m crazy.”

He shivers, pulling into himself, drawing his knees up to his chest. He sits like a kid.

“She might not be wrong.”

[sidewalkofthecity]

@thelighthouseclinic

“Hey, if you want female solidarity, you’re in the wrong town.”

She yawned, putting up her feet.

“I’ve got an aunt somewhere. Odds are she’s still alive. I haven’t actually checked in a while.”

[toast-to-lonely-souls]

@thelighthouseclinic

“Liz said she’d transfer my files.”

Dr. Rendell glanced round the office, taking in the liquor cabinet, the bordello-low lighting. Automatically he twisted the hem of his silk shirt between his fingers, rolling it back and forth, back and forth.

“I don’t know if my insurance went through. Massachusetts. Blue Cross, Blue Shield. Doesn’t matter, anyway, I can pay up front—“

He cut himself off.

“Sorry. I’m rambling.”

A self-deprecating little laugh.

“I really hate this town, Dr. Kaufmann.”

[toast-to-lonely-souls]

@thelighthouseclinic

“I’m used to women eyeing up my wallet.”

But he smiles, if warily.

[toast-to-lonely-souls]

“You have really nice fingers…” @Gideon (Viv)

“I’ll be honest. That’s a compliment I’ve never gotten before.”

He glances down at his hands: small, clever, not quite thin enough to be called bony.