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“Is this a new couch?” I asked.

The psychologist looked at the couch. “No. Same as always.”

“New chair?”

“No.”

“New glasses?”

“No.”

“Are you the same doctor?”

The psychologist paused. “Yes…”

He scratched his head and sighed. Father sighed the exact same way often. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small rectangular bottle of Jim Beam. He raised the bottle to his lips, avoiding eye-contact with me, and took a sip. Then he offered the bottle to me.

“Tak...