Tick, tick, tick

" Miss Hassan?"

Tick, tick, tick

" Miss Hassan?"

Tick, tick, tick

" Cleo."

Cleo's head comes out of the void upon hearing her own name. No longer is the voice muffled, but apparent. She looks up at the woman sitting in the chair in front of her, legs crossed, notepad in hand. She peers over the woman's shoulder to gaze at the clock sitting on the barren wall, ticking away, as if it's directly targeting her. Her body suddenly feels very tense on the soft, plush couch.

" You're tense," The woman says as she observes her behavior.

Cleo hums in response.

" Is it because of the clock?" The woman asks, " You've been looking at it for quite a while."

Cleo shakes her head.

" What is it?" The woman asks.

Cleo feels the words bubbling up at her throat, but unable to let them out. She wants to speak, but her voice remains silent as she fights through the temptation.

" I feel..." She starts, " Nothing..."

" Absolutely nothing?" The woman asks.

" Nothing..." Cleo repeats, " I went on a date the other day."

" And how did that go?

" About as good as you would expect. I wasn't... I couldn't be emotionally present with her... and I hurt her."

" Do you find it difficult? Being romantically involved with other women?"

" I find it difficult being vulnerable with... anyone."

" You're vulnerable with me."

At her words, Cleo's eyes avert to a diploma plastered on the wall, reading Dr. Rachel Kaufman, and lets out a dry chuckle.

" I wonder why," She mumbles to herself as her eyes move down to the floor.

" Why does a piece of paper make it easy for you to be vulnerable with me?" Dr. Kaufman asks.

" Because," Cleo starts confidently, but it soon fades as she tries to structure the rest of her sentence," because..." she continues, " Because... that piece of paper means you understand. It means you can actually help."

" And is that why you perused a degree in psychology? To be that for others?"

" I got the degree so I could be that for myself," Cleo answers.

" Do you think asking for help makes you weak?"

" No... it's just... I feel like I have to do it by myself. Why else would I have studied all these different subjects and learned all those languages? There's always been a part of me that feels... that feels compelled to do better. To be strong to... to take charge."

" And how long have you felt like this?"

" Since I was born."

" In Alexandria?" Dr. Kaufman asks, and at those words Cleo finally looks her in the eyes, " That is where you were born... correct?"

" Yes..." Cleo answers wearily.

" Could that pressure stem from your parents?" Dr.Kaufman asks.

" My parents?" Cleo asks, the memories still foggy within her mind, " No, no... they were historians... that's all."

" Then why did they send you to London?"

" What?" Cleo asks as she tilts her head, " N-No... they didn't send me here... I made that choice all on my own...." her eyebrows furrow, " Where are you getting this information from."

" From you," The doctor answers, " I've heard multiple different stories regarding your move to London, all of them different... all of them from you," Cleo takes a deep breath, " It's difficult for me to help you if I don't even have a clear understanding of your life," Cleo sucks in her lips, " Now... would you like to tell me the truth?"

Cleo pauses. Her eyes focused on the therapist, while the ticking of the clock behind her shoulder seems to increase in volume.

Tick, tick, tick

Alexandria

Tick, tick, tick

Alexandria

Tick, tick, tick

Alexandria

Tick, tick, tick

Her mind brings her back to one of her first memories in London.

Tick, tick, tick

She remembers the fog and the heavy rain.

Tick, tick, tick

She remembers burying her nose in books.

Tick, tick, tick

But she doesn't remember why she was there.

And so, Cleo finally looks up at the clock and realizes the time.

" That's one hour," She says as she stands up, her eyes still fixated on the clock, " We'll continue this next week."

With a sigh, Dr. Kaufman closes her notebook and places it on the table as Cleo walks out of the office.

She tugs her coat closer to her body as the brisk air hits her skin. She begins to walk down the cobblestone path to get back home. Her eyes stay lowered, watching the ground and every movement of her shoes. Her head remains as cloudy as the sky, making it ever so easy for her to accidentally bump shoulders with a man on the street.

" Alqarf (Shit)" She mutters, " I-I'm so sorry."

" Oh, it's quite alright," The man says with a genuine smile.

" I wasn't looking where I was going, it's my fault," Cleo says.

" Something on your mind?" The man asks.

" A lot," She exhales, " Would you like a cup of coffee? To make up for it?"

" Sure," The man says with a smile.

He follows Cleo into a nearby cafe, where she orders two cups of coffee and pays for them both. The two sit down at a table outside, all by themselves on the oddly empty street.

" Are you hungry?" Cleo asks as her overthinking kicks in, " I could grab you a scone?"

" No, no... thank you," The man says, the smile never leaving his face, " You are too kind."

And from the compliment, Cleo can't help but smile. The two bring the cups up to their lips, and finally drink their caffeinated beverages.

" This is wonderful," The man says as he puts his cup down, " Thank you."

" It's the least I could do," Cleo says with a shallow sigh.

" Is there something bothering you?" The man asks as he observes her, " You look like you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Cleo gives him a temporary smile.

" I'll be alright," She says," I'm a lot stronger than I look."

" I can see that," The man says, " You carry so much... and yet you're still able to keep going. There's... there's some amazing resilience inside you. Something... something extraordinary."

" Thank you," Cleo says, eyebrows furrowed.

She takes another sip of her drink as the man rests his arms on the metal table, causing his sleeve to roll up and his tattoo to be revealed, which catches Cleo's eyes.

" Fan of Amitt?" She asks as she gazes at his tattoo.

And the man merely chuckles.

" Oh, yes," He responds, " There's something compelling about her... wouldn't you agree?"

" Well... yes," Cleo responds, " Her stance on justice has been a philosophical question for ages. When is it too late or too soon to dial out justice? Are people born bad, or do they just become bad?"

" And what do you believe?" The man asks, " Hmm? Are people born bad, or do they just become bad?"

Cleo blinks a few times as she looks at the man in front of her, trying to come up with a response to a question she's pondered time and time again.

" I don't think it's that simple," She says, " Throughout human history, atrocities have been committed by people who think they're doing what's right. What's right to one will always be wrong to another. You could argue that it all went wrong when man started to see themselves as above nature, rather than apart of it, and therefore doing everything in the name of self preservation, or you could argue that some humans are just inherently bad," the man listens intently, " Bad people can become bad by their surroundings... but that would lead to the domino effect going all the way back to our start on this planet. The question then becomes... where do you draw the line?"

The man nods his head, truly and deeply listening to her words.

" That's very wise," He says, " You really are an intelligent woman," he smiles, " But, unfortunately... I must be going.

The man stands up and clutches his cane, and Cleo stands up as well. He extends his hand out for her, and she gives him hers to shake.

" I never did get your name," The man says.

" I'm Cleo."

" Hm, Cleo... that's quite beautiful. Cleo as in... Cleopatra?"

Cleo freezes at his words. She hasn't been refered to by her full name in so long. However, she just brushes it off as a natural assumption.

" Lucky guess," She says, " And you are?"

" Arthur. My name is Arthur Harrow."

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