“Thank you, Reginald, I’ll see you next week,” Brady called out.

Brady watched the door to his office close, only breathing once it clicked shut.

He turned around and sat down on his chair where he would usually listen to his patients.

He looked at the sofa, The imprints of patients' bottoms scarring the couch.

Brady scanned his room, sliding down his chair so his posture wasn't so formal.

He had little toys everywhere, paintings and pictures of serene landscapes he never went to, and a window showing the small city outside.

The walls were a solid orangish red, like a tangerine.

It was warm and inviting, which gave the room a strong emptiness when it was only Brady sitting inside it.

It was made for more than one person, and Brady felt lonelier when he was inside this room.

But with patients, the tone and colors of the room brightened.

It was a cozy little place that he had crafted for his patients; they might come in feeling anxious or fearful of what may happen, especially the ones who are still new.

But by the time they left, they were feeling calm or even happy.

He found pride in his work, his ability to bring calmness or joy to the lives of other people was something that little people could accomplish nowadays.

He had a special system where his few patients were able to quickly visit whenever they wanted if they gave him an hour’s notice.

That gave him enough time if he was home to put some good clothes on and look presentable.

He would then cross the street and unlock his building.

The room never changed, he never wrote anything down because he felt it made his patients more paranoid.

He didn't deal with anyone with any actual psychiatric issues, at least if he ever did he found them someone more qualified eventually.

The people he preferred to talk to were in relatively healthy mindsets but suffered from one common attribute, Loneliness.

That's why he let them come as they please, because Brady knew that spurs of loneliness come at random and he needed to be ready for whenever they might need him.

Of course, this always came with the plus that he might go for a few days without any scheduled visits, which meant he could bask in his own loneliness for some time.

Brady usually spent this time either learning more psychology, watching movies, or getting what little rest his insomnia-laden body would allow.

Brady yawned in his chair at the thought of sleeping, but the clock on the wall informed him that it was still only 2:30 pm.

This reminded Brady of the lunch he left in his minifridge under the desk.

He lifted himself off the chair with a groan and made his way to his desk.

It was bare except for some spare toys and a laptop he used to check his email.

Brady reached under the desk and obtained his lunch to reveal a ham sandwich and an apple.

Brady sighed, he didn't particularly like this kind of lunch, but he also did not have a lot of motivation to make anything better.

He sat at his desk and began eating, staring off into space.

Along with the spare toys, there were also small picture frames with past patients on them.

He didn't always take pictures of these patients, but he felt that these ones deserved to be remembered by him.

There were four pictures of different people, the first and oldest being a tall round lady with blondish hair, next a shorter and slimmer girl, next a tall boy with colored hair, and finally, the most recent picture was a short chubby man.

Each of these patients was special to Brady's heart, they helped him grow in his area of work through their unique issues and problems while most of them left him abruptly.

He tried his best to refrain from a deep connection with his patients, but it was hard to do that at times when he wasn't doing so well.

It didn't help that these patients had all once been friends of his except for one.

His eyes focused on the picture of Barbara, the first one to find a home on his desk.

The first time the round lady, whose name was Barbara, came into his office, he was quite surprised by himself.

She was a friend who had reached out about some issues she was having, and he had offered to let her come in as a patient.

But it wasn’t until she walked through the doors that he realized that this was not something he expected to do.

As time went on, Brady found that Barbara's condition seemed to be getting worse.

She walked like she was stuck in quicksand, slowly and heavily.

Her eyes started to stain red from crying before and during her visits.

Soon enough, she sent Brady an email saying that they couldn’t meet any more and, she was going to seek more intense psychiatric help in another institution.

Brady was devastated.

He not only lost a patient, but a good friend of his.

He tried to look back on what he did wrong, and it wasn’t until several months later that he realized that it was going to happen no matter what.

She must have already been in a bad place and sought him out to try to find happiness through him.

Brady was still grieving, but over time she moved on.

A year later after Barbara, the next photo on his desk entered his office.

He had to relocate his office after a fire burned down the last building, and while most patients were able to transfer, he was lacking new ones.

She was the first one to come in for a new appointment, not realizing the impact she would have on Brady.

Her name was Willow.

Willow was short and the scientific definition of “adorable”.

Brady would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t love her at least a little bit.

They stayed strictly in a professional relationship; Brady knew the dangers of expanding a relationship beyond that.

They met for a few months before Willow decided that she didn’t need Brady anymore.

On their last visit, they had a bittersweet and melancholy talk about Willow and where she was headed for the rest of her life.

Brady hesitated as she had left the door, but didn’t stop her from leaving.

He had cried that night, crying into his pillow at the loss of Willow in his life.

He was still incredibly happy for her, but the happiness had been overpowered by a stabbing sensation in his heart.

More time passed, and Lincoln was the next one to join Brady’s desk alter.

Lincoln came in without an appointment one day without warning, which was uncommon since there was a paper taped to his door specifying Brady's scheduling method.

However, Brady wasn’t doing anything at that moment and allowed him to visit.

Lincoln stopped being patient very quickly, not because he didn’t appreciate the visits, but because Lincoln preferred it if they had just become friends.

Brady found he was ok with this development; they were both remarkably similar people and interested in the same things.

It was healthy for Brady to have some friends of his own after all.

Lincoln had still been his friend to this day; Brady might even send an email to him and ask about watching the game tomorrow if he didn’t have any appointments scheduled.

The final picture of Brady's desk collage was Jamiroquai, or Jamal as he preferred to be called.

Jamal was vastly different from the other patients that Brady had previously met.

He was different in not only mannerisms and background but also in how he interacted with other people.

Jamal came from a more cultured background than his other patients and was somehow proud and insecure of himself in every aspect of his life.

While it took a few visits for any sense of trust in Brady to be built, it took only two for Jamal to tell every detail about their troubled life.

The details that he discussed horrified Brady.

Jamal’s life had been a goldmine for trauma, and Brady didn’t know how to handle it.

As Brady became consumed by his patient, less of his time was available for himself.

He would spend his nights sleepless, trying to find a way to help Jamal, even though he failed to have the necessary knowledge of how to do so.

Brady felt hopeless and scared, he even started developing a tick in his neck.

It became quickly clear that this patient was going to need help from people who were more qualified and prepared than he was.

So, during one of their visits, he broke the news to Jamal that he should seek help elsewhere.

Jamal did not take the news well, and it crushed Brady.

He never had to turn away a patient before, and it destroyed him.

The guilt Brady had over it was possibly more than he should’ve had, but he had it, nonetheless.

Over the next couple of weeks leading up to Brady eating his dry sandwich, he didn’t really know what to do.

He felt that not only was he failing to help people, but that he was getting worse.

With every patient that leaves him, a part of himself seems to leave as well.

Every emotion, interest, and desire that he and one of the patients shared, they always stole from him.

It left him empty and wanting, wanting to return to before he had met any of them.

Questioning if he was worthy of his job became a daily struggle, even as he talked with his current patients.

He needed to be careful not to ask them for advice, forgetting who was helping who at that moment.

He knew that he should get help, his own therapist perhaps, but he didn’t think it was what he needed.

Brady looked at his desk as he contemplated his life.

Nearly all the patients that sat at his desk stared at him and seemed to taunt him.

He did his best to give them happiness, and he had failed to do so.

This also caused him to be left unhappy.

Brady took the last bite of his sandwich and looked at his apple.

He turned it in his hand and examined it.

It turned out that it was squishy inside, hinting at the decay within.

Grimacing at the apple's attempt as a mirror, he tossed it in the trash.

Brady sits still for a moment, contemplating his next steps.

He remembers the game that was supposed to be played tomorrow.

Opening his laptop, he checks his calendar and finds that his day is free.

He sends an email to Lincoln and waits for a response.

As he leans back, a knock echoes from the other side of his office door.

He walks over and prepares himself for another walk-in, perhaps even another addition to his desk of memories.

He opens the door and finds Lincoln, standing there with a grin on his face.

Brady knew that grin, he had done something.

Lincoln raised his hand, grasping two baseball tickets for tomorrow.

Brady looked at the tickets and looked back at Lincoln's face, his smile still shining bright.

Tears began to form in Brady’s eyes, but he fought them down.

He stepped forward and gave Lincoln a long embrace, doing his best not to cry out in happiness he was beginning to lose.

Lincoln returned the hug and patted his back.

“It’s ok… I’m here for you,” Lincoln whispers.

End.